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L I YE S 


OP 

/ 

EMINENT CHRISTIANS 


VARIOUS DENOMINATIONS. 


JOHN FROST, LL.D. 

AUTHOR OF “PICTORIAL HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES,” ETC. 



HARTFORD: 

CASE, TIFFANY & CO. 
1850 . 

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^.<£>0 


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Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1849, by 

■ 

CASE, TIFFANY & CO. 

in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of Connecticut. 


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STEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON AND CO. 
PHILADELPHIA. 





PREFACE. 


Among the various collections of lives which enrich 
our literature, I do not recollect to have seen any one 
which was formed upon the plan which I proposed to 
myself in undertaking the present work. It was my 
purpose to make a collection of the lives of men who 
were eminent for learning, science, ability, or philan¬ 
thropy ; men who had attracted attention by their emi¬ 
nence in some one of the paths which lead to high 
distinction among mankind; and who, at the same 
time, were remarkable for true Christian piety; admit¬ 
ted on all hands to be good as well as great. If 
such a book shall only establish the fact that real 
piety is not incompatible with worldly eminence, it 
will have accomplished a good work. 

But if I have succeeded in my object, it will do more 
than this. It will be observed, upon a careful perusal 
of this volume, that, as a general rule, the eminent 
Christians whose lives form its subject, were persons 
whose characters were formed by a faithful study of 
the Holy Scriptures, “ which are able to make us wise 
unto salvation/’ Their example will illustrate the 
truth that the fear of the Lord is “ the beginning of 

3 



4 


PREFACE. 


wisdom.” By considering seriously the events of their 
lives, the reader will gain much instruction with re¬ 
spect to the ordering of his own life, and the conform¬ 
ing of it to the requirements of the Holy Word. 

In making the collection, I have had recourse to a 
great variety of authorities. In some few instances the 
lives are drawn from the works of persons of the same 
religious denomination as the subject, as in the case of 
Elizabeth Fry. But in most cases I have relied upon 
writers who could hardly be biased in their views of 
character by sectarian feelings. Many of the lives are 
condensed from voluminous biographies; others are 
taken with little change from such collections as that 
of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, 
and “The Georgian Era.” 

I have sought for the lives of Christians of various 
denominations; but I am aware that there have been 
many very eminent Christians whose lives will not be 
found in this volume. Its limits forbid the idea of 
completeness. These specimens, however, will serve 
to inculcate the great moral and religious lessons which 
I had in view; and I trust that my sincere desire to 
render a service to society by assembling together many 
brilliant examples of Christian virtue, will plead my 
excuse for any shortcomings which may be found in 
the execution of my design. 



CONTENTS 


PASS 

JOHN WICLIF. 9 

JOHN HUSS... 14 

JEROME OF PRAGUE.,,... 26 

GIROLAMO SAVONAROLA. 30 

JOHN CRAIG. 36 

DESIDERIUS ERASMUS. 41 

SIR THOMAS MORE. 49 

MARTIN LUTHER.'.... 58 

PHILIP MELANCTHON.. 68 

THOMAS CRANMER. 77 

HUGH LATIMER .. 86 

NICHOLAS RIDLEY. 92 

ISABELLA OF CASTILE. 96 

ADMIRAL COLIGNI. 104 

FREDERIC, ELECTOR OF SAXONY. 113 

JOHN HOOPER... 119 

JOHN CALVIN. 124 

THEODORE BEZA. 129 

JOHN ROBINSON. 133 

JOHN WINTHROP OF MASSACHUSETTS. 138 

ROGER WILLIAMS. 142 

JOHN WINTHROP OF CONNECTICUT.... 145 

CATHARINE OF ARRAGON. 147 

KING EDWARD THE SIXTH. 149 

LADY JANE GREY. 152 

PIERRE RAMUS. 164 

a 2 5 





























6 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

JOHN MILTON. 168 

ULRIC ZWINGLE...'. 176 

SIR HENRY YANE. 188 

JOHN KNOX. 193 

JACOB BOHME. 200 

HUGO GROTIUS.'.. 208 

JOHN ELIOT. 213 

GEORGE FOX. y . 218 

INCREASE MATHER. 221 

COTTON MATHER. 224 

JOHN BUNYAN. 226 

RICHARD BAXTER... 232 

ANNE HUTCHINSON. 242 

JONATHAN EDWARDS. 245 

JONATHAN MAYHEW. 247 

TIMOTHY DWIGHT. 250 

ROBERT BOYLE.a. 253 

GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS. 257 

BLAISE PASCAL. 267 

JEREMY TAYLOR. 275 

SIR MATTHEW HALE. 283 

ISAAC BARROW. 295 

JOHN RAY. 298 

ARCHBISHOP FENELON. 304 

WILLIAM PENN. 312 

SAMUEL JOHNSON. 323 

NICHOLAS COUNT ZINZENDORF. 332 

DAVID BRAINERD. 336 

JOHN WESLEY. 344 

GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 351 

CHRISTIAN SCHWARTZ.. 364 

JOSEPH ADDISON.!. 373 

ELIZABETH ROWE. 378 

GRANVILLE SHARP. 379 

HUGH BLAIR. 380 

COLONEL GARDINER. 382 

ARCHBISHOP TENISON. 386 







































CONTENTS. 


7 


PAGE 

WILLIAM LAW.. 389 

JOHN HOWARD. 390 

WILLIAM COWPER. 396 

JAMES HERVEY. 403 

CHARLES WESLEY. J. . 406 

HUMPHREY PRIDEAUX. 414 

EDWARD YOUNG. 415 

ISAAC WATTS. ., .. 419 

CHARLES CHAUNCY.’. 423 

CHARLES CHAUNCY. 426 

EZRA STILES. 429 

PHILIP DODDRIDGE. 431 

HANNAH MORE. 438 

DAVID ZIESBERGER. 444 

SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 453 

MATTHEW HENRY. 457 

HENRY SCOUGAL. 458 

JAMES SAURIN. 460 

JONAS HAN WAY. 462 

SIR WILLIAM JONES. 471 

WILLIAM ROMAINE. 477 

JOSEPH BUTLER. 480 

RALPH CUDWORTH. 482 

JOHN FLAVEL. 485 

EDMUND CALAMY. 486 

EDMUND CALAMY. 487 

ROBERT BARCLAY....... 489 

SAMUEL CLARKE. 491 

JOHN OWEN. 500 

ROBERT LOWTH. 502 

CLADIUS BUCHANAN. 505 

ANNE HASSELTINE JUDSON.✓... 512 

JOHN WILLIAM FLETCHER. 519 

ANNE LETITIA BARBAULD. 521 

REGINALD HEBER. 524 

WILLIAM CAREY. 527 

DR. MARSHMAN. 536 







































8 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

ROBERT MORRISON. 546 

GEORGE LORD LYTTELTON.,. 563 

BEILBY PORTEUS. 567 

HENRY MARTYN. 569 

FELIX NEFF. 571 

WILLIAM WILBERFORCE . 574 

JOHN FREDERICK OBERLIN. 582 

HENRY KIRKE WHITE. 689 

THOMAS CHALMERS. 594 

ELIZABETH FRY. 598 

ROBERT HALL. 608 

THOMAS CLARKSON. 621 

DR. THOMAS ARNOLD. 623 

THOMAS WILSON. 627 

ROBERT ROBINSON. 630 

DANIEL NEAL.. 637 

LEGH RICHMOND. 639 

JAMES MONTGOMERY. 640 

JANE TAYLOR. 645 

ELIZABETH. CARTER. 646 

WILLIAM ALLEN. 648 

JOSEPH LANCASTER... 652 

JOSEPH JOHN GURNEY. 656 

THOMAS FOWELL BUXTON. 659 

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 664 



























LIVES 


OF 

EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JOHN WICLIF 



■ BOUT six miles distant from Richmond, in 
Yorkshire, England, is the small village of 
Wiclif. It had long been the residence of 
a family of the same name, when it gave 
birth, about the year 1324, to its most dis¬ 
tinguished native, commonly called the first 
English Reformer. The family, says a late 
writer, possessed wealth and consequence. 
Though the name of the reformer is not to be 
found in the extant records of the household, it is 
probable that he belonged to it. Perhaps the 
spirit of the times, and zeal for the established 
hierarchy, may have led it to disclaim the only 
person who- has saved its name from absolute ob¬ 
scurity. 

John Wiclif was first admitted at Queen’s Col¬ 
lege, Oxford, but speedily removed to the more ancient 
establishment of Merton. Here he made great proficiency in 
the scholastic learning then in vogue, and the direction in which 
his talents were turned is indicated by the title which he early 
acquired of the Evangelic or Gospel Doctor. 

In 1356 he put forth a tract on the Last Age of the Church, 
remarkable not only from its ascribing the plague and other 
2 9 



12 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


moment when these men were preparing to gratify their revenge 
upon him, a sedition of the people in his favour interrupted 
their proceedings; and before this could be appeased, a mes¬ 
sage, prohibiting any sentence against him, was received from 
the queen-mother. The reformer became more fearless. The 
Bible was the basis of his system; and every pretension or 
tenet repugnant to it he rejected. He denounced auricular 
confession; declared pardons and indulgences to be devices for 
augmenting the power and wealth of the clergy, at the expense 
of public morality ; he paid no regard to excommunications and 
interdicts; he pronounced confirmation an unnecessary cere¬ 
mony, invented to aggrandize episcopal dignity; he reprobated 
the celibacy of the clergy and monastic vows; he maintained 
that bishops and priests, being of the same order, were improperly 
distinguished; and lastly, that the property claimed by the 
clergy was merely enjoyed by them in trust for the benefit of 
the people, and was disposable at the discretion of the secular 
government. 

Although Wiclif, in advocating these opinions, drew upon 
himself the hatred of the hierarchy, yet he was protected by a 
powerful party both at court and among the people. But in 
1381 he advanced a step further. In a treatise respecting the. 
eucharist, he confuted the popular belief on that important 
tenet, and explained its nature, in a manner similar to that of 
Luther in the sixteenth century; while admitting a real pre¬ 
sence, he denied transubstantjation. Here was ground for a 
new clamour; and Wiclif soon ascertained that the strength 
of his opponents was increasing through the desertions of his 
friends. Truth was still on his side; but the subject being 
obscure, and consequently regarded with much prejudice, was 
more closely connected with the feelings of his hearers than 
almost any other. It affected not merely their respect for a 
corrupt hierarchy, but their faith in what they had been taught 
to consider essential to salvation. Those who had formerly 
listened to him with delight, trembled when they heard him 
attacking the ground-work of their belief; his noble patrons 
perceived the impolicy of his new course; and John of Lan¬ 
caster especially commanded him to desist. Wiclif was unawed. 
In 1382 he was summoned before a synod held by Courtney, 
and, after undergoing an examination, was commanded to answer 


JOHN WICLIF. 


13 


before the Convocation of Oxford, for certain erroneous opi¬ 
nions, especially that relating to the eucharist. Wiclif prepared 
to defend them. The Duke of Lancaster forsook him. The 
undaunted reformer, though now alone, published two confessions 
of faith, in which he asserted his adherence to his former belief. 
Six adversaries entered the lists against him, and at length the 
judges sentenced him to perpetual banishment from the Uni¬ 
versity of Oxford. He peacefully retired to his rectory at 
Lutterworth, and spent the two remaining years of his life in 
theological studies, and the discharge of his pastoral duties. 
The mildness of his sentence—so inconsistent with the spirit of 
that age—must astonish us; but whether the praise of modera¬ 
tion be due to the prelates’ forbearing to press their enmity, or 
to the state’s refusing to sanction their vengeance, is not known. 

Wiclif’s doctrines were so far in advance of his age that we 
cannot but wonder how they escaped immediate extinction. 
With the people, however, they were ever cherished; nor was 
the author neglectful of the means proper for their dissemina¬ 
tion. By translating the Bible, he increased the means of 
ascertaining their truth, or at least of detecting the falsehood 
of his adversaries’ system; and by his numerous missionaries, 
called Poor Priests, sent forth to propagate truth, he acquired 
much influence for good. In after years, the Lollards embraced 
and perpetuated his doctrines, and by their undeviating hostility 
to the abuses of Rome prepared the path for the Reformation. 
At an early period his works found their way into Bohemia, 
and kindled there the first spark of resistance to spiritual des¬ 
potism. Huss proclaimed his adherence to Wiclif’s principles, 
and his respect for his person; praying in public that “ on his 
departure from this life, he might be received into those regions 
whither the soul of Wiclif had gone, since he doubted not that 
he was a good and holy man, and worthy of a heavenly habi¬ 
tation.” 

Thirty years after Wiclif’s burial, his grave was opened by 
order of the council of Constance; the sacred relics were torn 
from their sleeping place; and the ashes of the great reformer 
were strewn in a little brook which runs into the Avon. 


B 


12 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


moment when these men were preparing to gratify their revenge 
upon him, a sedition of the people in his favour interrupted 
their proceedings; and before this could be appeased, a mes¬ 
sage, prohibiting any sentence against him, was received from 
the queen-mother. The reformer became more fearless. The 
Bible was the basis of his system; and every pretension or 
tenet repugnant to it he rejected. He denounced auricular 
confession; declared pardons and indulgences to be devices for 
augmenting the power and wealth of the clergy, at the expense 
of public morality ; he paid no regard to excommunications and 
interdicts; he pronounced confirmation an unnecessary cere¬ 
mony, invented to aggrandize episcopal dignity; he reprobated 
the celibacy of the clergy and monastic vows; he maintained 
that bishops and priests, being of the same order, were improperly 
distinguished; and lastly, that the property claimed by the 
clergy was merely enjoyed by them in trust for the benefit of 
the people, and was disposable at the discretion of the secular 
government. 

Although Wiclif, in advocating these opinions, drew upon 
himself the hatred of the hierarchy, yet he was protected by a 
powerful party both at court and among the people. But in 
1381 he advanced a step further. In a treatise respecting the. 
eucharist, he confuted the popular belief on that important 
tenet, and explained its nature, in a manner similar to that of 
Luther in the sixteenth century; while admitting a real pre¬ 
sence, he denied transubstantjation. Here was ground for a 
new clamour; and Wiclif soon ascertained that the strength 
of his opponents was increasing through the desertions of his 
friends. Truth was still on his side; but the subject being 
obscure, and consequently regarded with much prejudice, was 
more closely connected with the feelings of his hearers than 
almost any other. It affected not merely their respect for a 
corrupt hierarchy, but their faith in what they had been taught 
to consider essential to salvation. Those who had formerly 
listened to him with delight, trembled when they heard him 
attacking the ground-work of their belief; his noble patrons 
perceived the impolicy of his new course; and John of Lan¬ 
caster especially commanded him to desist. Wiclif was unawed. 
In 1382 he was summoned before a synod held by Courtney, 
and, after undergoing an examination, was commanded to answer 


JOHN WICLIF. 


IB 


before the Convocation of Oxford, for certain erroneous opi¬ 
nions, especially that relating to the eucharist. Wiclif prepared 
to defend them. The Duke of Lancaster forsook him. The 
undaunted reformer, though now alone, published two confessions 
of faith, in which he asserted his adherence to his former belief. 
Six adversaries entered the lists against him, and at length the 
judges sentenced him to perpetual banishment from the Uni¬ 
versity of Oxford. He peacefully retired to his rectory at 
Lutterworth, and spent the two remaining years of his life in 
theological studies, and the discharge of his pastoral duties. 
The mildness of his sentence—so inconsistent with the spirit of 
that age—must astonish us; but whether the praise of modera¬ 
tion be due to the prelates’ forbearing to press their enmity, or 
to the state’s refusing to sanction their vengeance, is not known. 

Wiclif’s doctrines were so far in advance of his age that we 
cannot but wonder how they escaped immediate extinction. 
With the people, however, they were ever cherished; nor was 
the author neglectful of the means proper for their dissemina¬ 
tion. By translating the Bible, he increased the means of 
ascertaining their truth, or at least of detecting the falsehood 
of his adversaries’ system; and by his numerous missionaries, 
called Poor Priests, sent forth to propagate truth, he acquired 
much influence for good. In after years, the Lollards embraced 
and perpetuated his doctrines, and by their undeviating hostility 
to the abuses of Home prepared the path for the Reformation. 
At an early period his works found their way into Bohemia, 
and kindled there the first spark of resistance to spiritual des¬ 
potism. Huss proclaimed his adherence to Wiclif’s principles, 
and his respect for his person; praying in public that “ on his 
departure from this life, he might be received into those regions 
whither the soul of Wiclif had gone, since he doubted not that 
he was a good and holy man, and worthy of a heavenly habi¬ 
tation.” 

Thirty years after Wiclif’s burial, his grave was opened by 
order of the council of Constance; the sacred relics were torn 
from their sleeping place; and the ashes of the great reformer 
were strewn in a little brook which runs into the Avon. 


B 


14 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JOHN HUSS. 



q/T is a remarkable fact that the writings of 
Wiclif should have given the first impulse 
N " to the reformation in the distant kingdom of 
Bohemia, where they were instrumental in 
|M converting a man not less eminent than the 
jjf great English reformer himself. This was the 
celebrated John Huss. Huss was born of poor 
parents, in the small town of Hussinetz, in the 
kingdom of Bohemia, in 1373. These kind and 
simple peasants spared no effort to secure the ad¬ 
vantages of a good education for their son. He 
finished his studies at Praschatitz, a town not far 
from his birth-place; and thence proceeded with his 
mother, then a widow, to the University of Prague, 
where he took the degrees of Bachelor and Master of 
Arts, (1396.) 

Among the few incidents preserved respecting the first years 
of Huss, the following is characteristic. One winter’s evening, 
when reading by the fire the Life of St. Lawrence, his imagina¬ 
tion kindling at the narrative of the martyr’s sufferings, he 
thrust his own hand into the flames. Being withheld by one 
of his fellow students from continuing it there, and then ques¬ 
tioned as to his design, he replied, “ I was only trying what 
part of the tortures of this holy man I might be capable of 
enduring.” 

During the time that he was a student, having become ser¬ 
vitor of a professor, to whose library he thereby had access, he 
had an opportunity of acquiring a degree of theological informa¬ 
tion, which for that age was remarkable. Two years after 
taking the degree of Master of Arts, (1398,) he delivered public 
theological and philosophical lectures. In 1402, the office of 
Bohemian preacher in the Bethlehem chapel at Prague, which 


JOHN HUSS. 


5 


was established by a private foundation, was conferred upon 
him. Here he began to acquire influence over the people, 
with whom, as well as with the students, his sermons were very 
popular; and being soon after made confessor to the queen, 
Sophia of Bavaria, wife of King Wenceslaus, he thus gained 
access to the court. 

Neither birth, education, nor manner of life had prepared 
this mild, modest, and even timid man for the bold steps he so 
speedily adopted. When a British student first showed him the 
propositions of Wiclif, he was alarmed at their boldness, and 
begged him to throw such dangerous writings into the river. 
Yet the scandalous struggle going on between the two pontiffs 
at this time, with all the license and corruption of the clergy, 
made so painful an impression on him as to disturb him even in 
his sleep. But his daily study of the Holy Scriptures, and his 
intercourse with the learned Jerome of Prague, as well as the 
crying abuse of indulgences, gradually opened his eyes; and 
resuming the study of the writings of Wiclif, his early opi¬ 
nions gave way to reason, and his heart overflowed with fer¬ 
vent approbation. In answer to his fellow-collegians, who de¬ 
tected him reading these books, and reproachfully remarked, 
that, by a decree of the Council, the author had been sent to 
hell, he replied, “I only wish that my soul may reach the place 
where that excellent Briton now dwells.” 

Various circumstances favoured in Bohemia the free move¬ 
ment of men’s minds at this time. The marriage of Richard II. 
of England to Anne, sister of the King of Bohemia, had greatly 
increased the intercourse between the two countries, and the 
University of Prague was attracting the learned from all parts 
of Europe; and King Wenceslaus, resenting his degradation 
from the imperial dignity, tolerated a movement distasteful to 
his adversaries, while Queen Sophia lent it her aid from sincere 
conviction. 

As the mind of the reformer became more thoroughly en¬ 
lightened, he assumed a more independent front, and by preach¬ 
ing and writing attacked the highest clergy, denouncing their 
scandalous lives, and the gross corruptions of the church they 
were abetting. All classes crowded to hear him. His fame 
spread through the empire, and attracted both friends and foes 
to Bohemia. 


16 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


This powerful movement became public in 1407, the very 
year of the Council of Pisa. The Archbishop of Prague, Sbinko, 
a few months before the opening of the council, had anathema¬ 
tized Huss for exhorting the people to disregard the authority 
of Pope Gregory XII., and had become reconciled to him when 
forced himself to recognise the authority of Alexander V. But 
in 1409, this latter pontiff published a bull against Huss’s doc¬ 
trines and those of Wiclif, forbidding them to be preached in 
any place whatever; and the Archbishop Sbinko was directed 
to proceed against all offenders as heretics, and to suppress 
Wiclifs books by every means in his power. To this Huss 
replied, in terms similar to those subsequently used by Luther 
on a like occasion: “ I appeal from Alexander ill-informed, to 
Alexander better-informed.” 

The archbishop had, the year before, required all the holders 
of Wiclifs books to deposit them at the archiepiscopal palace; 
and now, emboldened by the pontiff’s bull, he caused upwards 
of two hundred volumes, beautifully written and richly orna¬ 
mented, including the works, not only of Wiclif, but those of 
Huss and Jerome, as well as their predecessors, Miliez and 
Janow, mostly belonging to members of the University of 
Prague, to be committed to the flames. At the same time he 
prohibited the Bohemians preaching at the Bethlehem chapel. 
This act was deeply resented, and John Huss undertook the 
defence of the university, whose privileges had thus been vio¬ 
lated. His protest against the unjust sentence was finally sub¬ 
mitted to the University of Bologna; while the prohibition to 
preach was disregarded by Huss. 

Meantime the burning of the books had occasioned a popular 
tumult, and Sbinko, flying to the king for protection, was coldly 
received. The University of Bologna gave judgment against 
the archbishop ; and Huss, strong in this decision, preferred a 
final appeal to the pope; who, however, died before acting on 
the subject, and was succeeded by John XXIII. 

This pontiff summoned Huss to appear at Rome to answer for 
his offences. The queen, the nobility, the professors of the 
university, and the citizens besought King Wenceslaus not to 
deliver their favourite into the hands of so formidable an enemy 
The king sent a numerous embassy into Italy, to assure the 
pope that Huss was a worthy, pious, right-thinking Christian, 


JOHN HUSS. 


17 


falsely accused by his enemies; and refusing his personal ap¬ 
pearance at Rome. This representation was disregarded, the 
envoys were imprisoned ; and Huss was excommunicated as a 
heretic. 

The intelligence of this proceeding, against which the Bohe¬ 
mian ambassador had solemnly protested, caused great discon¬ 
tent at Prague; and this was especially directed against the 
archbishop, as the influential enemy of Huss. Sbinko fled to 
Hungary to implore the new emperor, Sigismund, brother of 
Wenceslaus, to put down the new heresy by force of arms,—a 
request which the emperor w r as only prevented from complying 
with, by his being occupied in. a war with the Turks. 

The departure of Sbinko was regarded as a triumph by the 
Hussites, as the reformer’s followers were now called, Jmt his 
sudden death on the road being unjustly charged upon them, 
was turned into a weapon of offence by their enemies. 

Huss, meantime, though excommunicated, continued to preach; 
and about this time secured the devoted friendship of Jerome of 
Prague, whose destiny was to be so signally united with his own. 

The reader will recollect that at this period three popes were dis¬ 
tracting Europe with their rival claims. Of these, John XXIII., 
who was the most warlike, had become involved in a war with 
Ladislaus, king of Naples; and to escape burdening his own 
revenue with expense, he proclaimed a crusade throughout 
Christendom, requiring support against his personal enemy. 
Among others, he sent a special bull to “ his dearly beloved 
children,” the Bohemians, to the effect that “ eternal salvation 
and absolution from sin might be obtained in exchange for their 
silver and gold, or even for their iron weapons used in his support.” 

Against the iniquity of these proceedings, Huss boldly pro¬ 
tested, declaring, that the objects of the war had no relation to 
the state of Christianity, and that remission of sins and eternal 
salvation were to be sought for, not by the useless payment of 
Peter’s pence, but by a life of faith and obedience to the law 
of God. Not satisfied with this, Huss affixed a placard to the 
doors of the churches in Prague, challenging both clergy and 
laity to a public discussion on this momentous question, “ Whether 
a crusade preached against a Christian people could be recon¬ 
ciled with the honour of God, the love of Christ, the duty of man, 
or the welfare of the country ?” Immense multitudes assembled 
3 b 2 


18 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


to hear the discussion, in which Huss and Jerome, resting on 
the simple authority of the Bible, overturned the sophistry of 
their opponents, armed with the orthodox weapons of common 
law, bulls and decretals. 

Soon after this event, three men being imprisoned for having 
spoken against the pope and his indulgences, the students and 
people of Prague rose in arms and demanded their release: 
Huss, being appealed to by the magistrates to calm the tumult, 
on the faith of their promise, assured the people that the prison¬ 
ers were pardoned, and sent them home with shouts of triumph. 
But as soon as the crowd was dispersed, the judges caused the 
captives to be beheaded. Their blood, flowing beneath the door 
of the prison, gave the people notice of this base treachery, and 
a furious tumult instantly ensued: the council-house was stormed, 
the guilty judges fled for their lives, and the bodies of the 
victims were buried with great funeral pomp; the students sing¬ 
ing in chorus over their tomb, “ They are saints who have given 
up their bodies for the gospel of Christ.” 

During the progress of this struggle for religious liberty, Pope 
John XXIII. once more summoned Huss to Rome ; and, irritated 
at his disobedience, and alarmed at the progress of his opinions, 
he stirred up against him the secular powers. He wrote to 
Wenceslaus, to the King of France, and to the various universi¬ 
ties. Gerson replied in the name of the University of Paris, 
summing up with these words: “ It only remains to put the 
axe of the secular arm to the root of this accursed tree.” 

Meanwhile the schism, which furnished such discordant fruits 
elsewhere, afforded the Hussites new arguments for opposing 
rthe jurisdiction of the pope. “If we must obey,” said they, 
“ to whom is our obedience due ? Balthazar Cossa, called 
John XXIII., is at Rome; Angelo Corario, named Gregory 
XIL, is at Rimini; Peter de Lune, who calls himself Benedict 
XIII., is in Arragon. If one of them ought to be obeyed as 
the most Holy Father, how is it that he cannot be distinguished 
from the others, or that he fails to subdue these false antipopes ?” 

The disturbances still continuing in Bohemia, Huss, who was 
distrustful of the protection of the weak King Wenceslaus, went 
to the feudal lord of his birth-place, Nicholas of Hussinetz, the 
generous protector of his boyhood, who received him with open 
-arms. Here, and in many places in the circle of Bechin, he 


JOHN HUSS. 


19 


preached with much success. Here also he wrote his memorable 
books, “On the Six Errors,” and “On the Church,” in which 
he attacks transubstantiation, the belief in the pope and the 
saints, the efficacy of the absolution of a vicious priest, uncon¬ 
ditional obedience to earthly rulers, and simony, which was then 
extremely prevalent, and makes the Holy Scriptures the only 
rule in matters of religion. 

The approbation with which these doctrines were received, 
both among the nobility and the common people, greatly in¬ 
creased the party of Huss ; and as nothing was nearer his heart 
than the diffusion of truth, he readily complied witfi the sum¬ 
mons of the Council of Constance to defend his opinions before 
the clergy of all nations. Wenceslaus gave him the Count 
Chlum and two other Bohemians of rank for his escort, and the 
Emperor Sigismund, by letters of safe conduct, became responsi¬ 
ble for his personal safety. With his noble escort, the poor 
excommunicated priest took his departure for Constance, with 
simple trust in God, and a courage supplied by conscious recti¬ 
tude, all unknown to his lordly enemy John XXIII., who at the 
same time was wending his way towards that eventful assembly. 

On the road, Huss was everywhere received by the people 
with welcome and rejoicing, and led with triumph through the 
streets of the several towns that lay on his way ; and at length, 
on the 3d of November, 1414, he arrived, with his Bohemian 
escort, at Constance. 

Less propitious were the omens that attended the approach 
of the pontiff to the city, his carriage having been overturned 
on one of the mountains which overlook it. On getting up, he 
passionately exclaimed, “By the power of Satan, behold me 
fallen ! why did I not remain quietly at Bologna?” and looking 
down on the city, he added, “ I see how it is; that is the pit 
where the foxes are snared !” 

On reaching Constance, the companions of Huss waited on 
the pope, announcing his arrival under a “ safe-conduct” of 
the emperor, and asking further assurance of his personal 
safety. “Had he killed my own brother,” replied the pope, 
“not a hair of his head should be touched during his stay here.” 
Yet his destruction was already determined on. Nor was he 
insensible of his danger. “ I confide altogether in my Saviour,” 
he writes at this time. “I trust that he will accord me his Holy 


20 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


Spirit, to fortify me in his truth, so that I may face with courage 
temptations, prison, and if necessary a cruel death. 

Articles of indictment were secretly prepared against him, 
at the same time that he was induced to desist from preaching, 
under a false promise of being relieved from excommunication. 
Meantime the rumoured approach of the emperor hastened 
operations, and all being prepared, the Bishops of Augsburg 
and Trent, with the Mayor of Constance and others, broke in, 
unexpected, upon Huss while at dinner with Count Chlum, and 
summoned him to a private audience with the pope and Cardi¬ 
nals. He replied, that he came to Constance to speak in open 
council, according to the ability God would give him. The 
bishops assured him that he had nothing to fear, and finally 
induced him and Count Chlum to accompany them to the papal 
palace, where they were instantly arrested and put under mili¬ 
tary guard. 

Chlum being soon after released, demanded an explanation 
of this violation of good faith, from the pope, who disclaimed 
the act, and referred him to the cardinals, w r ho he said had 
overmastered him. The Bohemian knight next appealed to the 
cardinals, one of whom impudently denied the validity of the 
safe-conduct of a layman, and another declared, that no faith 
need be kept with heretics. After a week’s confinement in a 
private house, Huss was taken to the prison of the Dominican 
monastery, on the banks of the Rhine, and immersed in one of 
its deepest and filthiest dungeons, where he was speedily brought 
to death’s door by a raging fever ; and the pope, in order to 
save him for the future burning, sent his own physicians to 
attend him. Meantime the emperor, informed of what had 
passed by Count Chlum, instructed his ambassador, on the in¬ 
stant to set John Huss at liberty, and, if resistance were made, 
to break open the doors. Yet still he remained in prison. 
Sigismund listened to arguments of political expediency, and, 
to avert public odium for his bad faith, published a letter filled 
with the specious sophistries by which the priests had influenced 
himself. The intrepid Count Chlum made his last vain appeal 
to the people, and affixed to the church doors an earnest protest 
against the violation of the imperial safe-conduct. 

On the 24th of December, the emperor arrived at Constance; 
and, soon after, the pretensions of the rival pontiffs being dis- 


4 


JOHN HUSS. 


21 


cussed in the General Council, John XXIII., threatened with 
accusations of the most infamous crimes, was induced to resign 
the tiara. When Huss had been three months in prison, John 
XXIII. fled to Schaffhausen, one of his last acts being, to 
transfer Huss to the cardinals, who sent him to the castle of 
Gotleben, on the Rhine, where he was shut up, with irons on his 
feet; and at night, a chain attached to the wall prevented the 
captive from moving from his bed. Thus, in defiance of the 
most solemn promise of the pope, he was handed over to the 
tender mercies of his sworn enemies. Ere a few months elapsed, 
however, the dethroned pontiff was ignominiously brought back 
to Constance, and conveyed a prisoner to the same fortress 
where his victim yet lingered, the prisoner of a “better hope.” 

The indefatigable Count Chlum, and other Bohemian nobles, 
used their most zealous exertions to prevail on the emperor, 
at this crisis, to ratify his own promises; but the utmost they 
could obtain was permission to visit him, in the presence of 
witnesses. He was found by them in so miserable and ema¬ 
ciated a state, that these brave men were melted to tears, at 
the sight of his sufferings, and the meek spirit in which he bore 
them. 

When the cruel treatment of Huss became known in Bohemia, 
it excited universal indignation. In the generous mind of Je¬ 
rome of Prague, sympathy for his friend overpowered all sense 
of danger, and he immediately set out for Constance. He was 
arrested at Herschau, in the Upper Palatinate, and brought to 
Constance on a cart, loaded with chains, where he was presented 
to a conclave of priests assembled at the convent of the Francis¬ 
cans. Delivered by them to the cruel Archbishop of Riga, he 
was thrown, heavily ironed, into the dark dungeon of a tower 
in the cemetry of St. Paul. His chains w^ere riveted to a lofty 
beam, so as to prevent his sitting down; while his arms were 
fastened with irons behind his neck, so as to force down his 
head. Such were the studied tortures with which papacy was 
accustomed to punish the expression of liberal opinions. In 
this dreadful dungeon Jerome was confined for a whole year, 
the severity of his treatment being relaxed only when his life 
threatened to fall a sacrifice to such rigour. 

The arrest of Jerome, the pupil and friend of Huss, was a 
severe blow to him. In vain did he solicit the privilege of 


22 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

sharing the same dungeon with his partner in misfortune. All 
his entreaties on this head were sternly disregarded. 

The utmost that the friends of Huss could obtain for him 
was a public trial, which he owed to the interference of the 
emperor; his enemies having striven in vain to avert this, from 
their dread of the influence of his eloquence on the assembly; 
and this, for a time, revived the hopes of his faithful adherents. 

On the 7th of June, 1418, the council being assembled,.the 
reformer was led before them by a numerous guard of soldiers. 
The emperor was present, and none had a more painful part to 
play than himself. Before him stood the same John Huss, 
loaded with chains, for whose liberty he had pledged his impe¬ 
rial word. He came with the vain hope of devising some means 
of escape for the prisoner that should wipe from his conscience 
the reproach under which it trembled. 

It is unnecessary to attempt an abstract of the complicated 
charges of heresy which were advanced on three successive 
appearances of the reformer before the council. Scarcely a 
show of justice was attempted. “ Recantation or death” was 
the alternative offered, and the voice of the prisoner was drowned 
in this reiterated cry. 

Yet among the milder of his judges, there were not wanting 
those who earnestly seconded the emperor in striving to procure 
such a form of abjuration as might prove acceptable to Huss, 
and rescue them from the alternative of sanctioning his con¬ 
demnation. And perhaps the noble firmness of the martyr 
never shone more brightly than when he who had stood un¬ 
daunted before the threats of malignant judges, passed unmoved 
through the harder ordeal of the entreaties and tears of his 
friends. Sigismund awaited the result of their final effort with 
an anxiety that proves the acuteness with which' he suffered 
under the stings of conscience. “John Huss,” says a German 
author, “ forced on the emperor the violation of his faith, and 
had a noble revenge in taking from him the power of rescuing 
him from the funeral pile.” Sigismund was now taught by 
bitter experience, that a sceptre which has long been swayed 
by the councils of the hierarchy is not only gradually wrested 
from the hands of the rightful owner, but is turned into the 
means of his own punishment. Importuned by priests of all 
orders, he at length exclaimed, in bitterness, “ Let him die 


JOHN HUSS. 


23 


then!” and when still further pressed, he even fixed the day for 
Huss’s execution. 

Hitherto, in this vast assembly, we have only beheld the bitter 
enemies of truth and justice; yet even here the dark picture 
is not unrelieved by light. The Cardinal Bishop of Ostia had, 
at first, like other Italians, regarded the reformer with horror 
as a wilful heretic. But now, when he became convinced of his 
sincerity, sympathy and admiration took the place of dislike, 
and he visited Huss again and again in prison, striving by every 
means in his power to procure his deliverance, and even be¬ 
seeching him with tears, to adopt such a form of recantation as 
might enable his friends to set him at liberty. Huss was deeply 
moved, on seeing his enemy thus transformed into an earnest 
friend : “ Most reverend father,” said he with tears, “ I know 
not how to thank you for this kindness to a poor prisoner; 
but,” added he, pressing the bishop’s hand to his heart, “I can¬ 
not deny the truth; I would rather, by death, fall into the 
hands of the Lord, than live a victim to endless remorse.” 
The bishop, overpowered with the interview, and the firmness 
of one thus in sight of a painful death, could only ejaculate, 
“ I cannot help thee ! I cannot condemn thee ! may God 
strengthen thee !” and, in tears, he bade him farewell. Nor 
should it be forgotten, that there is still shown, in the choir of 
the church at Constance, the monument of an English bishop 
who died of grief at witnessing the death of John Huss. 

The sixth of July, the forty-second birth-day of Huss, was 
opened with especial pomp by the council; the emperor, the 
cardinals and bishops, and the princes of the empire were pre¬ 
sent, with an immense concourse of people, assembled to wit¬ 
ness his degradation. He was led from the prison in fetters, 
and kept outside till high mass was celebrated, lest the holy 
mysteries should be profaned by the presence of such a heretic. 
Thirty-nine articles of accusation were read against him. Huss 
repeatedly attempted to protest against their false accusations, 
but the Bishop of Florence commanded the beadles to stop his 
mouth by force. The prisoner knelt, and raising his hands to 
heaven, commended his cause to God. When at length he 
was permitted to speak, he closed his brief reply in these me¬ 
morable words: “ I determined of mine own free-will to appear 
before this council, under the public protection and faith of the 


24 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


emperor here present.” John Huss, in pronouncing this, looked 
steadfastly at Sigismund, and a deep blush at once mounted to 
the imperial brow. The remembrance of this was long pre¬ 
served in Germany, and when, at the celebrated Diet of Worms, 
the enemies of Luther pressed Charles V. to have him seized, 
in contempt of his safe-conduct, “No,” replied the emperor, “I 
should not like to blush like Sigismund!” 

The ceremony of degradation was then commenced; seven 
bishops, appointed for the purpose, clothed Huss in sacerdotal 
habits, and placed the chalice in his hand, as if about to cele¬ 
brate mass. He was once more admonished to retract, and 
then the chalice was taken from him, and his robes stripped off, 
the removal of each being accompanied with an especial curse. 
A paper mitre, on which were painted frightful demons, was 
then placed on his head; and thus arrayed, the seven prelates 
devoted his soul to the devil: “And I,” said Huss, “commend 
my soul to the Lord.” He was then delivered into the hands 
of the secular power, and led forth to the place of execution. 

On the way, Huss was detained to witness the burning of his 
books in the churchyard, and smiled at the sight. According 
to the testimony, even of his enemies, he exhibited to the last 
moment of his life an astonishing dauntlessness of spirit. He 
was placed with his back to the stake, and bound to it with wet 
cords, in addition to a strong iron chain, which secured his 
neck and feet, and held his head down to the wood. Fagots 
were then arranged about him, wood and straw being piled up 
to his knees. An old peasant, thinking to propitiate heaven, 
hastily brought a fagot of wood to the pile; but Huss only 
smiled on him, with a compassionate look, exclaiming, « 0 holy 
innocence !” The Duke of Bavaria, then riding up to the stake, 
besought him not to die in his deadly errors; but the reformer 
exclaimed in a clear voice, “ I havfi ever taught according to 
God’s word, and will still hold fast the truth, which this very 
hour I shall seal with my death!” Astonished at a firmness, 
the source of which he could not understand, the duke clasped 
his hands over his face, and fled from the scene. Fire was then 
set to the pile, and the martyr no sooner beheld the blaze, than 
he began to sing the verse of an ancient Bohemian hymn. 
After the words, “ And take me to thyself, to live with thee 
for ever,” his voice was stifled by the smoke. For a few mo- 


JOHN HUSS. 


25 


ments his lips continued to move, as if in prayer. His head 
then sunk on his shoulders, and the ransomed spirit of the noble 
confessor was borne, on the flames of the martyr-pyre, “ where 
tears are wiped from every eye, and sorrow is unknown.’" 

His habits were burned with him, part of his dress being re¬ 
covered, with large bribes, to be cast upon the pile, as if with 
the hope of blotting out every remembrance of him from the 
earth. When all was consumed, they were not content with 
merely removing the ashes, but digging up the earth, to the 
depth of four feet, they gathered the whole together, and threw 
it into the Rhine. 


26 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JEROME FOULFISCH, 

COMMONLY CALLED JEROME OF PRAGUE. 



HIS eminent reformer, the pupil and friend 
of John Huss, was of the family of Foulfisch 
and was educated at the Universities of 
Prague, Paris, Cologne, and Heidelberg. In 
learning and eloquence he excelled Huss; but 
was his inferior in prudence and moderation. 
His reputation for learning was so great, that 
he was employed by Ladislaus II., of Poland, 
to organize the University of Cracow; and Si- 
gismund of Hungary caused Jerome to preach be¬ 
fore him in Buda. The doctrines of Wiclif, which 
he introduced into his preaching, subjected him to 
a short imprisonment by the University of Vienna, 
but he was released by the people of Prague. He now 
took a zealous part, as we have already seen, in the 
contest of his friend Huss against the abuses of the 
hierarchy and the dissoluteness of the clergy, and not unfre- 
quently proceeded to violence. Pie attacked the worship of 
relics with his characteristic ardour, trampled them under foot, 
and caused the monks, who opposed him, to be arrested, and 
even had one thrown into the river Moldau. He publicly 
burned, in 1411, the bull of the crusade against Ladislaus of 
Naples, and the papal indulgences. 

When John Huss was imprisoned at Constance, Jerome could 
not remain inactive, but hastened to his defence. We have 
already seen, that on his way, he was arrested, carried in chains 
to Constance, and closely imprisoned. 

The execution of John Huss afforded a fresh proof of the 
inefficacy of such means for the suppression of truth. The fire 
which consumed him gave new life to his doctrines, and the 






JEROME OF PRAGUE. 


27 


flames that surrounded his stake set Bohemia on fire. When 
the news reached Prague, the people flocked to the chapel of 
Bethlehem, and this man, whom the council had burned as a 
heretic, was honoured by the Bohemians as a martyr and a 
saint. 

Nor was it merely the illiterate crowd that rendered this 
homage to his memory; the nobles of the kingdom met together, 
and, with their hands on their swords, swore to avenge him whom 
they regarded as the apostle of Bohemia. 

Meanwhile Jerome was still kept in irons, in the tower of St. 
Paul’s cemetery; no severity had been spared him in his noi¬ 
some dungeon, and his legs were already afflicted with incurable 
sores. In this state, he was brought out, and summoned, under 
pain of being burned, to abjure his errors; human weakness 
prevailed, and the bold Jerome of Prague submitted himself to 
the will of the council. 

New forms of abjuration were devised, by the fiercer partisans 
of Borne, to humble the disciple of Huss, and new crimes 
brought forward by his accusers. His contempt for relics was 
dwelt on with peculiar zeal; and it was asserted that he had 
dared to uphold, “that the veil of the Virgin was not more 
worthy of the homage of Christians than the skin of the ass 
on which Christ had ridden.” 

But the mind of this noble follower of Huss speedily re¬ 
covered its elasticity, and on his subsequent examinations, he 
indignantly rejected their forms of recantation, and refused to 
acknowledge himself guilty of error. He spoke in the highest 
terms of Huss, and declared himself ready to follow him to the 
stake in defence of the truth. 

The assembly were excited to the utmost violence by his 
heroic profession, and called loudly for his condemnation. 
“What,” exclaimed Jerome, “you have held me for a whole 
year in a frightful dungeon, till my flesh has literally rotted 
off my bones, and do you suppose I fear to die?” A fresh 
burst of clamour rose against him, but he stood undaunted 
before them, and repelled their accusations with a boldness that 
made the fiercest quail. He was led back to his dungeon; his 
hands, his arms, and his feet loaded with irons; the intrepid 
follower of Huss had pronounced his own doom. 

A death thus voluntarily encountered, for a just and holy 


28 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


cause, is the more worthy of admiration, as it had been pre¬ 
viously shunned. The very circumstance of his early dread 
throws an additional interest round the last moments of Jerome, 
when, under even worse circumstances than his forerunner, 
he manifested all his intrepidity, without the presence of a sin¬ 
gle earthly friend to strengthen his soul in the trying hour. 

Jerome was brought forth from his dungeon, to face his per¬ 
secutors for the last time. The Bishop of Lodi ascended the 
pulpit, and in a long discourse inveighed against the captive, 
as an obstinate and accursed heretic, “ whose neck is an iron 
sinew and thy brow brass!” Jerome replied to him, in bold 
and heart-stirring words, repelling those false accusations, but 
anew expressing his abhorrence at his own abjuration of the 
doctrines of Huss, and declaring his admiration of that lowly 
and just man. Finally, he appealed from their sentence, and 
summoned them to answer for it at the sacred tribunal of Jesus 
Christ. He was then condemned, as an excommunicated here¬ 
tic, declared accursed, and without further ceremony delivered 
over to the secular power. 

A high crown of paper, on which were painted demons in 
flames, was then brought in. Jerome, on seeing it, threw his 
hat on the ground, and placing it on his own head, exclaimed, 
“ Jesus Christ, who died for me a sinner, wore a crown of thorns. 
I willingly wear this for him.” The soldiers then seized him 
and led him away to death. On coming to the stake, to which 
he was about to be bound, he knelt in prayer to God. The 
executioners raised him while still praying, and having bound 
him to the stake with cords and chains, they heaped up around 
him the pile of wood and straw. When the wood was raised on 
a level with his head, his vestments were thrown on the pile, 
and the executioner proceeded to set fire to the mass behind, 
ashamed to be seen. “ Come forward boldly,” exclaimed Je¬ 
rome, “ apply the fire before my face. Had I been afraid, I 
should not be here.” When it had taken fire, he said with a 
loud voice, “ Lord, into thy hands do I commit my spirit!” 
And the voice of prayer was silenced in the consuming flames. 

His ashes, like those of Huss, were collected, and thrown 
into the Rhine; renewing again the emblem of truth, borne by 
the mighty river into the bosom of the ocean, thence to dis¬ 
seminate its healing virtues to every land. 


JEROME OF PRAGUE. 


29 


The dying embers of their funeral piles kindled the moun¬ 
tain fires of Bohemia. The very ground where the stake was 
placed was hollowed out, and the earth on which they had suf¬ 
fered carried to Bohemia, and guarded with religious care. 
But the influence of the noble martyrs’ example has not yet run 
its course; nor has the flame which it kindled been yet extin¬ 
guished. It lighted the altars of the Reformation in the follow¬ 
ing century, and shone as a beacon fire through every succeeding 
age. Like a billow raised in the solitude of the vast ocean, it 
has gone on widening and increasing its sphere, rolling on an 
irresistible wave, unquelled by opposition, unchecked by every 
barrier in its path. Nor will the mighty movement stay its 
course, till the billow, dashed upon earth’s furthest shore, still 
into the calm of gospel peace, and time shall disclose the tri¬ 
umphant end, when “ they that be wise shall shine as the bright¬ 
ness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness 
as the stars for ever and ever.” 


C 2 


t 


GIROLAMO SAVONAROLA. 



AVONAROLA, the connecting link between 
the reformation of John Huss and Martin 
Luther, was born at Ferrara, September 21, 
1452. His parents were of noble extraction; 
and in common with the Italian nobility of 
that day, were enthusiastic supporters of learn¬ 
ing. Under his grandfather, young Savonarola 
made rapid advances in natural philosophy and 
medicine; and when this affectionate relative 
died, his pupil, then ten years old, was instructed 
in logic and philosophy by his father, and in the 
classics by teachers of approved learning. Plato he 
studied with enthusiasm ; while the cultivation of his 
poetic powers and the perusal of Dante and Petrarch 
relieved the intervals of graver pursuits. 

But another subject had in the mean while engrossed 
the young student’s attention. It was religion—an inward im¬ 
pulse that he was destined for something higher and better than 
the things of earth. His deep sensibility upon this subject had 
been noticed in earliest childhood; and it was this which had 
rendered him an enthusiastic votary of Plato. He had wit¬ 
nessed the canonization of Catherine of Sienna, and afterwards 
neither the charms of literature, the prospects of fame, nor the 
fascinations of wealth could efface the impression of that event. 
In the hours of silence and solitude, or amid the hurry of busi¬ 
ness, his mind wandered to the splendid ceremonies of the ca¬ 
thedral—the adoration of the host, the narrative of faith and 
virtue, and the matchless music of the choir. A sense of his 
own sinfulness was ever present to his mind; and its effect 
was heightened to intensity by the aid of a powerful imagina¬ 
tion, which, continually picturing the horrors of Dante’s Pur¬ 
gatory, left to him rest neither day nor night. Hurried for- 


GIROLAMO SAVONAROLA. 


31 


ward by such feelings, he resolved to seek, amid the seclusion 
and fancied holiness of a monastery, that peace which the world 
could not afford. In April, 1475, he joined the Dominicans at 
Bologna. 

Savonarola was disappointed. The monastery of the age of 
Sixtus IV. and Alexander was no school to lead the inquiring 
mind to Christ. The young monk entered with a heart broken 
in view of his sins; but he found there neither balm nor physi¬ 
cian. Sometimes he expounded Aristotle; sometimes Thomas 
Aquinas. Most of his brother monks, when not engaged in 
study or labour, rioted in immorality and wickedness ; and Savo¬ 
narola, though filled with anguish at the sense of his own mise¬ 
rable condition, felt that there was no one to whom he could 
apply for advice or relief. At this crisis he became acquainted 
with the Sacred Scriptures. Every thing else was forgotten. 
From that moment his chief occupation was to study them, to 
obey them, and apply their truths to his life and conscience. 
By them he learned that the real Catholic church consists of 
those who, through the grace of God, follow righteousness; 
and that the nominal church had departed from primitive sim¬ 
plicity, had introduced ceremonies unauthorized by the word of 
God, and had substituted obedience to these rituals for obedi¬ 
ence to the command of God. Still he revered the Church of 
Rome; he revered the priestly office; and after a novitiate of 
seven years, he was himself ordained a priest. 

Savonarola began preaching at Florence during the Lent of 
1483. On account of his awkward figure and unpleasant voice, 
his first efforts were unsuccessful, and he desisted. After two 
years of laborious application, he recommenced, with the most 
flattering results. Such was the loftiness of his thought, the 
fervour of his devotion, and his power in exposing the then pre¬ 
valent corruptions, that Lorenzo de’ Medici invited him to become 
a permanent resident at Florence. The invitation was accepted, 
and Savonarola was created Prior of San Marco. Here his 
lectures, especially those on the Apocalypse, were crowded by 
hearers of all classes. Often there was no room for the monks, 
many of whom stood on the choir wall. His sermons were based 
on three points, that the church should be reformed, that all 
Italy was soon to be heavily visited for sin, and that the punish¬ 
ment would soon arrive. But his preaching was not confined 


32 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHKISTIANS. 


to such themes. “None,” he cried, “can glory in themselves: 
and if in the presence of God the question were put to all the 
righteous, ‘ Have you been saved by your own strength V they 
would all with one voice exclaim, ‘Not unto us, 0 Lord, but 
unto thy name be the glory.’ ” To support such appeals, he re¬ 
ferred continually to Scripture. “Not what saith the Church; but 
what saith the Lord: give yourself to the study of the Sacred 
Scriptures: let us publicly confess the truth, the Sacred Scrip¬ 
tures have been locked up : this light has almost been extinguish¬ 
ed among men.” At the monastery he restricted himself to 
four hours of rest, and employed the remaining time, not occupied 
in study or preaching, to hold spiritual conversation with the 
brethren under his charge, whom he visited for that purpose from 
cell to cell. He exhorted his patron Lorenzo to abandon the 
religion of the senses, and adopt that of the heart. 

During these labours of the faithful monk, the great Medici 
died; and about this time Savonarola became entangled in the 
politico-religious party which opposed the Medician influence. 
Piero de’ Medici, successor to Lorenzo, was rash and vacillating ; 
riots and plunderings ensued; Charles VIII. invaded Italy with a 
French army, and the republican party, to which Savonarola 
belonged, acquired the ascendency. The monk’s conduct at 
this time may appear strange, unless we view it with strict refer¬ 
ence to the spirit of that age and country. He looked upon 
Charles VIII. as the instrument divinely appointed to effect the 
reformation of Italy, and solemnly exhorted the monarch to re¬ 
gard his high commission. But when Charles, on visiting Flo¬ 
rence, treated the people with indignity, Savonarola again sought 
his presence, and delivered such a reproof as seldom meets royal 
ears. In all this we see the strange mixture of true religion 
and blind fanaticism which pervaded the most eminent minds 
of that day. The government which Savonarola wished to es¬ 
tablish was a pure theocracy, and for a while he seemed likely 
to effect it. The Florentines, lately abandoned to frivolity and 
vice, were animated through his preaching to religious enthu¬ 
siasm. Shops were shut till after the morning service. Games 
and public amusements were abandoned. Industry and sobriety 
were rewarded, and attendance on religious services filled up 
the intervals of necessary business. Gay processions were re¬ 
placed by religious dances, accompanied by the singing of hymns; 


GIROLAMO SAVONAROLA. 


33 


and at the season of carnival, books, statues, and pictures, 
which Savonarola had condemned as heathenish or immoral, 
were burned in the public squares. The good work extended 
even to the monasteries, whose members, especially those of the 
Dominicans, abandoned many evil habits, and adopted a purer 
code. 

Meanwhile, Alexander VI. assumed the tiara. That bad man 
soon observed the movements in Florence, of course with no 
friendly eye. Savonarola presently perceived that be was a mark¬ 
ed man; but instead of being daunted, he exclaimed, “Write to 
Rome, that this light is kindled in all places. Rome shall not 
quench this fire, as nevertheless it will endeavour to do. Nay, if 
it quenches it in one, then will another and a stronger break 
out.” The pope found it necessary to proceed with caution 
against the favourite of a city like Florence. In 1495, he com¬ 
manded Savonarola to preach during Lent at Lucca, instead of 
Florence. The monk prepared to obey, but through the inter¬ 
ference of the magistrates, the order was revoked. Alexander 
then requested a Dominican bishop to repair to Florence, and 
controvert the brother’s preaching. “ Furnish me with arms 
then,” answered the bishop, “for since Savonarola speaks truly 
of the clergy, I must be informed what to reply.” It was then 
agreed, that the offender should be bought over with a cardinal’s 
hat, and the bishop proceeded to Florence to open his tempta¬ 
tion. After the first interview with this man, Savonarola said, 
“ Come to my sermon to-morrow, and you shall have my answer.” 
On the morrow, the bishop was astounded with the most vehe¬ 
ment denunciation of the corruptions of the church. “ No other 
red hat will I have,” cried the preacher, “ than that of martyr¬ 
dom, coloured with my own blood.” The bishop returned to 
Rome. 

But a reaction took place in Florence: the strength and in¬ 
fluence of Savonarola’s party began to decline. Meanwhile, the 
monk maintained a correspondence with the King of France, in 
which he denounced the vices of the pope. One of his letters fell 
into Alexander’s hands, and the enraged pontiff cited its author 
to appear at Rome. The citation was veiled under a mask of hy¬ 
pocritical professions, but Savonarola was prevented from obeying 
it by sickness. On recovering, he recommenced his denunciation 
of the clerical vices. His language at this period may remind 
5 


34 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


the reader of Luther’s : “ Should the church command any thing 
against the law of love, then say I, Thou art not the Roman 
church, nor a shepherd of the same, but a man, and dost err.” 
In 1496, he received a command to abstain from preaching, but 
at request of the signory this was disobeyed. The pope accused 
him of destructive doctrines; Savonarola denied the accusation, 
and boldly addressed letters to the sovereigns of Germany, 
France, Spain, Hungary, and England, requesting them to call 
a general council. Alexander ordered the signory of Florence 
to deliver to him the son of blasphemy; they respectfully replied, 
that the reports which his holiness had received concerning their 
preacher were false and calumnious. 

But a great change was at hand: Savonarola’s friends lost 
influence daily, and a signory was elected which was decidedly 
opposed to him. Several times his life was in danger, and at 
length he was prohibited from preaching. The pope hailed these 
glad tidings with exultation; and on the 12th of May, 1497, ex¬ 
communicated his inflexible opponent; but the brief, directing the 
sentence to be executed, could not be carried into effect. Savo¬ 
narola again mounted the pulpit; crowds flocked to hear him; 
they were excommunicated by the archbishop, and at length 
Florence was laid under the popish interdict. 

At length, harassed and calumniated on every side, Savona¬ 
rola decided upon a step which throws a shadow over the hitherto 
bright history of his career. Francesco di Puglia challenged 
him to prove his doctrine by the ordeal of fire. A Dominican 
named Prescia accepted the challenge, to the performance of 
which Savonarola agreed. Puglia, scorning to compete with any 
other than the “ arch-heretic,” named Giuliano Rondinelli as his 
champion. The 7th of April, 1798, was appointed for the trial. 
Amid a vast crowd, the Dominicans approached the pile, headed 
by Savonarola, whose powerful voice led their favourite chant, 
the sixty-eighth psalm. The Franciscans followed their cham¬ 
pion, barefoot and in silence. When the excitement of the 
bystanders was at its highest pitch, an unexpected difficulty arose. 
Prescia insisted on entering the fire with the host in his hand: 
the Franciscans loudly declared that it would be subjecting 
God to flames. During a violent dispute upon this point, a heavy 
storm deluged the pile with water, and drove the bystanders to 
their houses. The people, infuriated by thus losing their sport, 


GIROLAMO SAVONAROLA. 


35 


accused Savonarola of crime, stormed his house, and dragged 
his champion and himself to prison. A court of sixteen judges 
of inquiry, and two commissioners from Rome, was appointed 
to try him. During a long examination, Savonarola resolute¬ 
ly defended his conduct, but was afterwards subjected to torture. 
Although no confession was elucidated, a protocol of his answers 
was forged and published. The reformer, with his brethren 
Dominico and Sylvestro, were condemned to be hanged and 
burned. The sentence was executed on the 23d of May. Savo¬ 
narola met his fate as became a martyr to Christian truth. 
When the bishop, taking him by the hand, said, ‘‘I separate 
thee from the church triumphant,” he replied aloud, “From 
the militant, but not from the triumphant; that thou canst not 
do.” When asked if he went composedly to meet death, he 
answered, “ Should I not willingly die for His sake who willingly 
died for me, a sinful man ?” In a few moments he was launched 
into eternity, and his ashes were afterwards thrown into the 
Arno. 


36 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JOHN CRAIG. 



EW narratives are more interesting than the 
biography, imperfect and disconnected as it is, 
of the Scotch Dominican, John Craig. He 
was horn in 1512, during the prosperous reign 
of King James IV. His father perished with 
that monarch on the disastrous field of Flodden, 
leaving his boy exposed to the calamities, which, 
subsequently to the immediate effects of that bat- 
- tie, attended the long minority of James V. But he 
gave early promise of great abilities ; and at an age 
when the youth of more favoured countries are usually 
engaged in frivolity or dissipation, the future preacher 
had mastered the chief acquirements which then at¬ 
tracted the study of scholars. At that time no work 
exercised a greater influence upon the public mind than 
those satires of Sir David Lindsay, in which he exposes the 
errors of the Romish church. There can be little doubt that 
Craig was acquainted with these satires from the time of their 
publication; and perhaps to them he owed that early weakness 
of faith in the papal creed which afterwards changed to firm 
opposition. 

After studying at St. Andrew’s University, Craig repaired to 
England, where he became tutor in the family of Lord Dacre. 
War ensuing between England and Scotland, he returned to his 
native country, and soon after assumed the clerical profession, 
for which, according to the then prevalent belief, his previous 
studies had fitted him. He seems to have joined the Domini¬ 
cans in order to find, amid the seclusion of the cloister, that 
peace and consolation which could not be found in the world. 
He was disappointed. The monastery of the sixteenth century 
was no home of consolation to the soul sick of sin. His inqui¬ 
ries after truth excited suspicion, and being accused of heresy, 



JOHN CRAIG. 


87 


he was thrown into prison. This event is less remarkable than 
that he should afterwards have succeeded in clearing himself of 
the charge. In 1537, he returned to England; but being disap¬ 
pointed in an effort to procure a situation at Cambridge, he jour¬ 
neyed to Paris. We next find him in Italy, where, through the 
recommendation of his English patron, Lord Dacres, he was 
favourably received by Cardinal Pole, and appointed to an honour¬ 
able office in the Dominican monastery at Bologna. In instruct¬ 
ing the novices of the cloister, he gave such general satisfaction 
that he was afterwards employed in various ecclesiastical missions 
to different parts of the continent. It was on returning from 
one of these, that an incident occurred which forms the turning 
point in his career. He had been advanced to the rectorate, 
and while examining the library connected with that office, he 
discovered a copy of Calvin’s Institutes. Its perusal revived 
all his early doubts, and resulted in a determination to renounce 
the Romish faith, and embrace that of the reformers. 

And now Craig commenced a new life—one of peril and suffer¬ 
ing, of high resolves, glorious triumphs, and romantic adventures. 
He began at once to disclose his sentiments to others. When 
warned of danger, he referred to the text, “ He that denieth me 
before men, him will I deny before my Father which is in hea¬ 
ven. ’ ’ Among the Dominicans was an aged monk, who, like him¬ 
self, had wandered friendlessly from Scotland to Italy. The 
old man felt for him that deep affection for which his country¬ 
men are remarkable. Probably, like Craig, he had discover¬ 
ed a brighter faith than that of Rome; and he now urged his 
young companion to quit the monastery, and return to some 
Protestant country, where he might cherish his belief, free from 
the terrors of the Inquisition. Craig followed this advice so 
far as to leave the convent; but he remained in Italy, and soon 
afterwards became tutor in the family of a nobleman, who had 
embraced religious opinions similar to his own. They studied 
the Scriptures together, with a zeal which shortly attracted the 
attention of the inquisitors. In the age of Paul IV. such con¬ 
duct could not be tolerated, and the two friends were speedily 
dragged to Rome on a charge of heresy. : What became of the 
nobleman is not known. Craig was thrown into a dungeon, and 
after languishing there for nine months, was brought before the 
tribunal of the Inquisition. Imprisonment had not daunted his 

D 


38 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


spirit; he made a bold confession of his faith, and was condemn¬ 
ed, with several others, to be burned at the stake. 

The 19th of August, 1559, was appointed for the execution; 
but by a series of wonderful and unlooked-for events, Providence 
defeated the malice of the Inquisition, and restored his servant 
to liberty and usefulness. At the time of Craig’s imprisonment, 
the pontifical chair was occupied by Cardinal Gianpietro Ca- 
raffa, Paul IV., who may not inaptly be regarded as the imper¬ 
sonation of blind, relentless bigotry. Though approaching his 
eightieth year, his eye burned with the fire of youth, and his 
spare limbs moved with an elasticity which seemed to set old age 
at defiance. He was described as “ a loitering hypocrite, who 
makes matter of religious conscience of peppering a thistle.” 
His foreign politics consisted in wars and wranglings with neigh¬ 
bouring princes; and his domestic, in imprisonments, excommu¬ 
nications, and autos-da-fe. When the dispensation of mercy 
depended on the will of such a man, offenders had little mercy 
to expect, and the poor Scotch Dominican was preparing him¬ 
self for death as he best could. He had languished on to the 
last day of his imprisonment, when the event already mentioned 
occurred. He whose wickedness of heart was steeled to invinci¬ 
bility suddenly yielded* to one more obstinate than he. While 
commending to the College of Cardinals the Holy See, and 
the Inquisition which he had restored, the pope suddenly 
fell back and expired. Ho sooner was the news announced, 
then those feelings of hatred and revenge, pro’duced by long 
oppression, burst forth with resistless fury. The people gather¬ 
ed in crowds, broke in pieces his statue, and dragged the head 
through the streets. The prisons were broken open, the con¬ 
vents assaulted, the buildings of the Inquisition fired, their 
jailers maltreated, and their prisoners liberated. Amid the 
confusion, Craig passed unnoticed through the city, and set 
out for Bologna. But scarcely had he left Rome when he was 
seized by a company of banditti, who, enraged at not obtaining 
a purse of gold, resolved to drag him back to the Inquisition. 
His feelings at this moment may be imagined. He was saved by 
a circumstance at once pleasing and curious. The leader of the 
band, after gazing on him for some time, took him aside, and asked 
if he had ever been at Bologna, and if he remembered having 
once administered relief there to a poor maimed soldier. Craig 


JOHN CRAIG. 


39 


had forgotten. « I have not,” replied the robber. “I am that 
soldier, and am glad to have it now in my power to return the 
kindness which you showed to a distressed stranger.” The monk 
was immediately set at liberty, and supplied with money for his 
journey to Bologna. 

Craig found at Bologna the relatives of his former noble friend; 
but they shrank from him with alarm, and, as he supposed, re¬ 
solved to surrender him to the Inquisition. He immediately 
set out for Milan. His money being exhausted, he was obliged 
to support life by such food as he could gather by the way, and 
was more than once in danger of starving. The manner in 
which he was relieved is worthy of narration, since to the be¬ 
lieving mind it may perhaps evince, that a belief in special inter¬ 
positions of God’s favour is not unsupported by historical evidence. 
One day, exhausted by fatigue and suffering, he threw himself 
upon the ground and resigned himself to the bitterest reflec¬ 
tions. Suddenly, from a neighbouring wood a dog approached, 
holding in his teeth a purse of money. Being at first suspicious 
of some stratagem, Craig endeavored to drive the animal away, 
but as it continued to fawn upon him he at length took the purse, 
and found in it money sufficient to enable him to prosecute his jour¬ 
ney. He at length reached Vienna, assumed the Dominican 
dress, and from the pulpit vindicated, fearlessly, the truths for 
which he had suffered. 

Craig’s reputation as a preacher spread rapidly, numbers flocked 
to hear him, and the rumour of his eloquence having reached 
the emperor Maximilian II., that monarch expressed a desire 
to hear him. The monk soon became a favourite at court, but his 
reputation reaching the ears of the Italian inquisitors, they per¬ 
suaded Pope Pius IV. to demand him of the emperor. Maxi¬ 
milian acted as a friend and benefactor should act. He refused 
to deliver the monk to his enemies, showed him the pope’s letter, 
and after furnishing him with a safe-conduct out of Germany, 
dismissed him with flattering wishes for his welfare. Craig di¬ 
rected his course toward England, where he arrived in 1560, 
but hearing of the reformation which had taken place in his 
native country, he decided upon returning thither. 

Once more, amid the scenes of his childhood, this good man 
devoted to the cause of heaven all the energy and experience 
which years of checkered adventure had enabled him to acquire. 


40 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


He was appointed (1561) as the colleague of Knox, in the parish 
church of Edinburgh, and from that time took a leading 
share in the events connected with the early history of the 
Church of Scotland. His refusal to officiate at the marriage 
ceremony of the unfortunate Queen Mary with the Earl of 
- Bothwell shows, that in the performance of duty, he could no 
more be swayed by the smile of favour than by the frown of 
adversity. In 1584, an act of parliament ordered that “all 
ministers, masters of colleges, &c. should, within forty-eight 
hours, appear and subscribe the act of parliament concerning 
the king’s power over all estates spiritual and temporal, and 
submit themselves to the bishops, &c.” Craig opposed it. On 
being asked, before the council, how he could be so bold as to 
controvert an act of parliament, Craig answered, that he would 
find fault with any thing repugnant to God’s word. He was 
dismissed from the ministry, but when his successor the Bishop 
of St. Andrews entered St. Giles’s church at Edinburgh, the whole 
congregation arose and retired. Craig was accordingly restored. 

In 1579, Craig was appointed chaplain to King James VI. 
While filling this station he compiled part of the Second Book of 
Discipline, and in 1580 wrote the National Covenant, which after¬ 
wards exercised so mighty an influence over the destinies of his 
country. His name appears at this period in nearly every import¬ 
ant proceeding of the Church. In the Assemblies, he was gene¬ 
rally one of the few leading men, chosen for arranging any 
subject relative to the doctrines of the Reformation. In 1591, 
his public labours were closed, by his resigning his office in the 
king’s household. His death occurred December 4, 1600, in 
the eighty-eighth year of his age. His lot had fallen in perilous 
times. Born when James IV. was mustering his clans against 
England, he had lived under four sovereigns, to witness, after 
a series of unexpected events, the grandson of James IY. 
waiting with impatience the death of Queen Elizabeth, which 
was to unite two great kingdoms into one. The young Domini¬ 
can, who had left his native land under a suspicion of heresy 
against the then dominant Church of Rome, lived to return and 
take a place among the pastors of a Protestant people, and to 
fill the office of royal chaplain to a Protestant king. 


DESIDERIUS ERASMUS. 


41 


DESIDERIUS ERASMUS. 



ESIDERIUS ERASMUS was born at Rotter- 
dam, on the 28th of October, 1467. The 
irregular lives of his parents are related by 
^him in a letter to the secretary of Pope Julius 
II. It is sufficient to state here, that this 
great genius and restorer of letters was not 
born in wedlock. His unsophisticated name, 
as well as that of his father, was Gerard. This 
word in the Dutch language means amiable . 
According to the affectation of the period, he 
translated it into the Latin term, Desiderius, and 
superadded the Greek synonyme of Erasmus. Late 
in a life of vicissitude and turmoil, he found leisure 
from greater evils to lament that he had been so neg¬ 
lectful of grammatical accuracy as to call himself 
Erasmus, and hot Erasmius. 

In a passage of the life written by himself, he says that '“in 
his early years he made but little progress in those unpleasant 
studies to which he was not born;” and this gave his country¬ 
men a notion that as a boy he was slow of understanding. 
Hereon Bayle observes that those unpleasant studies cannot 
mean learning in general, for which of all men he was born; 
but that the expression might apply to music, as he was a cho¬ 
rister in the cathedral church of Utrecht. He was afterwards 
sent to one of the best schools in the Netherlands, where his 
talents at once shone forth, and were duly appreciated. His 
master was so well satisfied with his progress, and so thoroughly 
convinced of his great abilities, as to have foretold what the 
event confirmed, that he would prove the envy and wonder of 
all Germany. 

At the age of fourteen Erasmus was removed from the school 
at Deventer, in consequence of the plague, of which his mother 
6 d 2 


42 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


died, and his father did not long survive her. With a view to 
possess themselves of his patrimony, his guardians sent him to 
three several convents in succession. At length, unable longer 
to sustain the conflict, he reluctantly entered among the regular 
canons at Stein, near Tergou, in 1486. Much condescension to 
his peculiar humour was shown in dispensing with established laws 
and customary ceremonies: but he was principally led to make 
his profession by the arts of his guardians and the dilapidation 
of his fortune. He describes monasteries, and his own in par¬ 
ticular, as destitute of learning and sound religion. “ They are 
places of impiety,” he says in his piece ‘ De Contemptu Mundi,’ 
“ where every thing is done to which a depraved inclination can 
lead, under the mask of religion; it is hardly possible for any 
one to keep himself pure and unspotted.” Julius Scaliger and 
his other enemies assert that he himself was deeply tainted by 
these impurities; but both himself and his friends deny the 
charge. 

He escaped from the cloister in consequence of the accuracy 
with which he could speak and write Latin. This rare accom¬ 
plishment introduced him to the Bishop of Cambray, with whom 
he lived till 1490. He then took pupils, among whom was the 
Lord Mountjoy, with several other noble Englishmen. He says 
of himself, that “he lived rather than studied” at Paris, where 
he had no books, and often wanted the common comforts of life. 
Bad lodgings and bad diet permanently impaired his constitu¬ 
tion, which had been a very strong one. The plague drove him 
from the capital before he could profit as he wished by the in¬ 
structions of the university in theology. 

Some time after he left Paris, Erasmus came over to England, 
and resided in Oxford, where he contracted friendship with all 
of any note in literature. In a letter from London to a friend 
in Italy, he says, “ What is it, you will say, which captivates 
you so much in England ? It is that I have found a pleasant 
and salubrious air; I have met with humanity, politeness, and 
learning; learning not trite and superficial, but deep and 
accurate; true old Greek and Latin learning; and withal so 
much of it, that, but for mere curiosity, I have no occasion to 
visit Italy. When Colet discourses, I seem to hear Plato him¬ 
self. In Grocyn, I admire a universal compass of learning. 
Linacre’s acuteness, depth, and accuracy are not to be exceeded; 


DESIDERIUS ERASMUS. 


43 


nor did nature ever form any thing more elegant, exquisite, and 
accomplished than More.” 

On leaving England, Erasmus had a fever at Orleans, which 
recurred every Lent for five years together. He tells us that 
St. Genevieve interceded for his recovery; but not without the 
help of a good physician. At this time he was applying dili¬ 
gently to the study of Greek. He says, that if he could hut 
get some money, he would first buy Greek books, and then 
clothes. His mode of acquiring the language was by making 
translations from Lucian, Plutarch, and other authors. Many 
of these translations appear in his works, and answered a double 
purpose; for while they familiarized him with the language, the 
sentiments, and the philosophy of the originals, they also fur¬ 
nished him with happy trains of thought and expression, when 
he dedicated his editions of the Fathers, or his own treatises, to 
his patrons. 

We cannot follow him through his incessant journeys and 
change of places during the first years of the sixteenth century. 
His fatne was spread over Europe, and his visits were solicited 
by popes, crowned heads, prelates, and nobles; but much as 
the great coveted his society, they suffered him to remain ex¬ 
tremely poor. We learn from his ‘Enchiridion Militis Chris- 
tiani,’ published in 1503, that he had discovered many errors in 
the Roman church, long before Luther appeared. His reception 
at Rome was most flattering: his company was courted both by 
the learned and by persons of the first rank and quality. After 
his visit to Italy, he returned to England, which he preferred 
to all other countries. On his arrival he took up his abode 
with his friend More, and within the space of a week wrote his 
‘Encomium Moriae,’ the Praise of Folly, for their mutual 
amusement. The general design is to show that there are fools 
in all stations; and more particularly to expose the court of 
Rome, with no great forbearance towards the pope himself. 
Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, Chancellor of the University, and 
Head of Queen’s College, invited him to Cambridge, where he 
lived in the lodge, was made Lady Margaret’s Professor of 
Divinity, and afterwards Greek professor. But notwithstanding 
these academical honours and offices, he was still so poor as to 
apply with importunity to Colet, Dean of St. Paul’s, for fifteen 
angels as the price of a dedication. “Erasmus’s Walk” in the 


44 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


grounds of Queen’s College still attests the honour conferred 
on the university by the temporary residence of this great re¬ 
viver of classical learning. 

On his return to the Low Countries, he was nominated by 
Charles of Austria to a vacant bishopric in Sicily; but the right 
of presentation happened to belong to the pope. Erasmus 
laughed heartily at the prospect of this incongruous preferment; 
and said that as the Sicilians were merry fellows, they might 
possibly have liked such a bishop. 

In the year 1516 he printed his edition, the first put forth in 
Greek, of the New Testament. We learn from his letters, that 
there was one college in Cambridge which would not suffer his 
work to be brought within its walls: but the public voice spoke 
a different language; for it went through three editions in less 
than twelve years. From 1516 to 1526 he was employed in 
publishing the works of St. Jerome. Luther blamed him for 
his partiality to this father. He says, “ I prefer Augustine to 
Jerome, as much as Erasmus prefers Jerome to Augustine.” 
So far as this was a controversy of taste and criticism, the re¬ 
storer of letters was likely to have the better of the argument 
against the apostle of the Reformation. 

The times were now become tempestuous. Erasmus was of 
a placid temper, and of a timid character. He endeavoured to 
reconcile the conflicting parties in the church; but, with that 
infelicity commonly attendant on mediators, he drew on himself 
the anger of both. Churchmen complained that his censures 
of the monks, of their grimaces and superstitions, had paved 
the way for Luther. On the other hand, Erasmus offended the 
Lutherans, by protesting against identifying the cause of litera¬ 
ture with that of the Reformation. He took every opportunity 
of declaring his adherence to the see of Rome. The monks, 
with whom he waged continual war, would have been better 
pleased had he openly gone over to the enemy: his caustic 
remarks would have galled them less, proceeding from a Lutheran 
than from a Catholic. But his motives for continuing in the 
communion of the established church are clearly indicated in 
the following passage: “Wherein could I have assisted Luther, 
if I had declared myself for him and shared his danger ? Instead 
of one man, two would have perished. I cannot conceive what 
he means by writing with such a spirit: one thing I know too 


DESIDERIUS ERASMUS. 


45 


well, that he has brought great odium on the lovers of literature. 
He has given many wholesome doctrines and good counsels: 
but I wish he had not defeated the effect of them by his intole¬ 
rable faults. But even if he had written in the most unex¬ 
ceptionable manner, I had no inclination to die for the sake of 
truth. Every man has not the courage necessary to make a 
martyr: I am afraid that, if I were put to the trial, I should 
imitate St. Peter.” 

In 1522 he published the works of St. Hilary. About the 
sairib time he published his Colloquies. In this work, among 
the strokes of satire, he laughed'at indulgences, auricular con¬ 
fession, and eating fish on fast-days. . The faculty of theology 
at Paris passed the following censure on the book: “ The fasts 
and abstinences of the church are slighted, the suffrages of the 
holy virgin and of the saints are derided, virginity is set below 
matrimony, Christians are discouraged from becoming monks, 
and grammatical is preferred to theological erudition.” Pope 
Paul III. had little better to propose to the cardinals and 
prelates commissioned to consider about the reform of the 
church, than that young persons should not be permitted to 
read Erasmus’s Colloquies. Colineus took a hint from this 
prohibition: he reprinted, them in 1527, and sold off an im¬ 
pression of twenty-four thousand. 

In 1524 a rumour was spread abroad that Erasmus was going 
to write against Luther, which produced the following character¬ 
istic letter from the Great Reformer: “ Grace and peace from 
the Lord Jesus. I shall not complain of you for having behaved 
yourself as a man alienated from us, for the sake of keeping 
fair with the Papists; nor was I much offended that in your 
printed books, to gain their favour or soften their fury, you 
censured us with too much acrimony. We saw that the Lord 
had not conferred on you the discernment, courage, and reso¬ 
lution to join with us in freely and openly opposing these 
monsters; therefore we did not expect from you what greatly 
surpasseth your strength and capacity. We have borne with 
your weakness, and honoured that portion of the gift of God 
which is in you .... I never wished that, deserting your own 
province, you should come over to our camp. You might indeed 
have favoured us not a little by your wit and eloquence: but as 
you have not the courage requisite, it is safer for you to serve 


LIVES OP EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


46 

the Lord in your own way. Only we feared that our adversaries 
should entice you to write against us, in which case necessity 
would have constrained us to oppose you to your face. I am 
concerned that the resentment of so many eminent persons of 
your party has been excited against you: this must have given 
you great uneasiness; for virtue like yours, mere human virtue, 
cannot raise a man above being affected by such trials. Our 
cause is in no peril, although even Erasmus should attack it 
with all his might: so far are we from dreading the keenest 
strokes of his wit. On the other hand, my dear Erasmus, if 
you duly reflect on your own weakness, you will abstain from 
those sharp, spiteful figures of rhetoric, and treat of subjects 
better suited to your powers.” Erasmus’s answer is not found 
in the collection of his letters; but he must have been touched 
to the quick. 

In 1527 he published two dialogues; the first, on “ The pro¬ 
nunciation of the Greek and Latin Languages full of learning 
and curious research : the second, entitled “ Ciceronianus.” In 
this lively piece he ridicules those Italian pedants who banished 
every word or phrase unauthorized by Cicero. His satire, 
however, is not directed against Cicero’s style, but against the 
servility of mere imitation. In a subsequent preface to a new 
edition of the Tusculan Questions, he almost canonizes Cicoro, 
both for his matter and expression. Julius Scaliger had launched 
more than one philippic against him for his treatment of the 
Ciceronians; but he considered this preface as a kind of penance 
for former blasphemies, and admitted it as an atonement to the 
shade of the great Roman. Erasmus had at this time fixed his 
residence at Basle. He was advancing in years, and complained 
in his letters of poverty and sickness. Pope Paul III., not¬ 
withstanding his Colloquies, professed high regard for him, and 
his friends thought that he was likely to obtain high perferment. 
Of this matter Erasmus writes thus : “ The pope had resolved 
to add some learned men to the college of cardinals, and I was 
named to be one. But to my promotion it was objected, that 
my state of health would unfit me for that function, and that 
my income was not sufficient.” 

In the summer of 1536 his state of exhaustion became alarm¬ 
ing. His last letter is dated June 20, and subscribed thus: 
“Erasmus Rot. mgra manu.” He died July 12, in the 59th 


DESIDERIUS ERASMUS. 


47 


year of his age, and was buried in the cathedral of Basle. His 
friend Beatus Bhenanus describes his person and manners. He 
was low of stature, but not remarkably short, well-shaped, of a 
fair complexion, gray eyes, a cheerful countenance, a low voice, 
and an agreeable utterance. His memory was tenacious: he 
was a pleasant companion, a constant friend, generous and 
charitable. Erasmus had one peculiarity, humorously noticed 
by himself; namely, that he could not endure even the smell of 
fish. On this he observed, that though a good Catholic in other 
respects, he had a most heterodox and Lutheran stomach. 

With many great and good qualities, Erasmus had obvious 
failings. Bayle has censured his irritability when attacked by 
adversaries; his editor, Le Clerc, condemns his lukewarmness 
and timidity in the business of the Reformation. Jortin defends 
him with zeal, and extenuates what he cannot defend. « Eras¬ 
mus was fighting for his honour and his life; being accused of 
nothing less than heterodoxy, impiety, and blasphemy, by men 
whose forehead was a rock, and whose tongue was a razor. To 
be misrepresented as a pedant and a dunce, is no great matter; 
for time and truth put folly to flight: to be accused of heresy 
by bigots, priests, politicians, and infidels, is a serious affair; 
as they know too well who have had the misfortune to feel the 
effects of it.” Dr. Jortin here speaks with bitter fellow-feeling 
for Erasmus, as he himself had been similarly attacked by the 
high-church party of his day. He goes on to give his opinion, 
that even for his lukewarmness in promoting the Reformation 
much may be said, and with truth. “ Erasmus was not entirely 
free from the prejudices of education. He had some indistinct 
and confused notions about the authority of the Catholic Church, 
which made it not lawful to depart from her, corrupted as he 
believed her to be. He was also much shocked by the violent 
measures and personal quarrels of the reformers. Though, as 
Protestants, we are more obliged to Luther, Melancthon, and 
others, than to him, yet we and all the nations in Europe are 
infinitely indebted to Erasmus for spending a long and laborious 
life in opposing ignorance and superstition, and in promoting 
literature and true piety.” To us his character appears to be 
strongly illustrated by his own declaration, “ Had Luther written 
truly every thing that he wrote, his seditious liberty would 
nevertheless have much displeased me. I would rather even 


48 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


err in some matters, than contend for the truth with the world 
in such a tumult.” A zealous advocate of peace at all times, 
it is hut just to believe that he sincerely dreaded the contests 
sure to rise from open schism in the church. And it was no 
unpardonable frailty, if this feeling were nourished by a tempe¬ 
rament which confessedly was not desirous of the palm of 
martyrdom. 


SIR THOMAS MORE. 


49 


SIR THOMAS MORE. 



HIS great man was born in London, in the 
year 1480. His father was Sir John More, 
one of the judges of the King’s Bench, a 
gentleman of established reputation. He wa& 
early placed in the family of Cardinal Morton, 
Archbishop of Canterbury and Lord Chan¬ 
cellor of England. The sons of the gentry 
were at this time sent into the families of the 
first nobility and leading statesmen, on an 
equivocal footing; partly for the finishing of 
their education, and partly in a menial capacity.. 
The cardinal said more than once to the nobility 
who were dining with him, “This boy waiting at 
table, whosoever lives to see it, will one day prove a 
marvellous man.” His eminent patron was highly de¬ 
lighted with that vivacity and wit which appeared in his 
childhood, and did not desert him on the scaffold. Plays were 
performed in the archiepiscopal household at Christmas. On 
these occasions young More would play the improvisatore, and 
introduce an extempore part of his own, more amusing to the 
spectators than all the rest of the performance. In due time 
Morton sent him to Oxford, where he heard the lectures of 
Linacer and Grocyn on the Greek and Latin languages. The 
epigrams and translations printed in his works evince his skill 
in both. After a regular course of rhetoric, logic, and philoso¬ 
phy, at Oxford, he removed to London, where he became a law 
student, first in New Inn, and afterwards in Lincoln’s Inn. He 
gained considerable reputation by reading public lectures on 
Saint Augustine, De Civitate Dei, at St. Lawrence’s church in 
the Old Jewry. The most learned men in the city of London 
attended him; among the rest Grocyn, his lecturer in Greek at 
Oxford, and a writer against the doctrines of Wielif. The object 
7 E 


50 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


of More’s prolusions was not so much to discuss points in theo¬ 
logy, as to explain the precepts of moral philosophy, and clear 
up difficulties in history. For more than three years after this 
he was Law-reader at Furnival’s Inn. He next removed to the 
Charter-house, where he lived in devotion and prayer; and it 
is stated that from the age of twenty he wore a hair-shirt next 
his skin. He remained there about four years, without taking 
the vows, although he performed all the spiritual exercises of 
the society, and had a strong inclination to enter the priesthood. 
But his spiritual adviser, Dr. Colet, Dean of St. Paul’s, recom¬ 
mended him to adopt a different course. On a visit to a gen¬ 
tleman of Essex, by name Colt, he was introduced to his three 
daughters, and became attached to the second, who was the 
handsomest of the family. But he bethought him that it would 
be both a grief and a scandal to the eldest to see her younger 
sister married before her. He therefore reconsidered his pas¬ 
sion, and from motives of pity prevailed with himself to be in 
love with the elder, or at all events to marry her. Erasmus 
says that she was young and uneducated, for which her husband 
liked her the better, as being more capable of conforming to his 
own model of a wife. He had her instructed in literature, and 
especially in music. 

He continued his study of the law at Lincoln’s Inn, but re¬ 
sided in Bucklersbury after his marriage. His first wife lived 
about seven years. By her he had three daughters and one 
son; and we are informed by his son-in-law, Roper, that he 
brought them up with the most sedulous attention to their in¬ 
tellectual and moral improvement. It was a quaint exhortation 
of his, that they should take virtue and learning for their meat, 
and pleasure for their sauce. 

In the latter part of King Henry the Seventh’s time, and at 
a very early age, More distinguished himself in parliament. 
The king had demanded a subsidy for the marriage of his 
eldest daughter, who was to be the Scottish queen. The de¬ 
mand was not complied with. On being told that his purpose 
had been frustrated by the opposition of a beardless boy, Henry 
was greatly incensed, and determined on revenge. He knew 
that the actual offender, not possessing any thing, could not 
lose any thing; he therefore devised a groundless charge against 
the father, and confined him to the Tower till he had extorted 


SIR THOMAS MORE. 


51 


a fine of 100?. for his alleged offence. Fox, Bishop of Win¬ 
chester, a privy councillor, insidiously undertook to reinstate 
young More in the king’s favour: hut the bishop’s chaplain 
warned him not to listen to any such proposals; and gave a 
pithy reason for the advice, highly illustrative of Fox’s real 
character. “ To serve the king’s purposes, my lord and master 
will not hesitate to consent to his own father’s death.” To 
avoid evil consequences, More determined to go abroad. With 
this view, he made himself master of the French language, and 
cultivated the liberal sciences, as astronomy, geometry, arith¬ 
metic, and music; he also made himself thoroughly acquainted 
with history: but in the mean time the king’s death rendered 
it safe to remain in England, and he abandoned all thoughts of 
foreign travel. 

Notwithstanding his practice at the bar, and his lectures, 
which were quoted by Lord Coke as undisputed authority, he 
found leisure for the pursuits of philosophy and polite literature. 
In 1516 he wrote his Utopia, the only one of his works which 
has commanded much of public attention in after times. In 
general they were chiefly of a polemic kind, in defence of a 
cause which even his abilities could not make good. But in 
this extraordinary work he allowed his powerful mind fair play, 
and considered both mankind and religion with the freedom of 
a true philosopher. He represents Utopia as one of those 
countries lately discovered in America, and the account of it is 
feigned to be given by a Portuguese, who sailed in company 
with the first discoverer of that part of the world. Under the 
character of this Portuguese he delivers his own opinions. His 
History of Richard III. was never finished, but it is inserted 
in Rennet’s Complete History of England. Among his other 
eminent acquaintance, he was particularly attached to Erasmus. 
They had long corresponded before they were personally known 
to each other. Erasmus came to England for the purpose of 
seeing his friend; and it was contrived that they should meet 
at the Lord Mayor’s table before they were introduced to each 
other. At dinner they engaged in argument. Erasmus felt 
the keenness of his antagonist’s wit; and, when hard pressed, 
exclaimed, “You are More, or nobody;” the reply was, “You 
are Erasmus, or the Devil.” 

Before More entered definitively into the service of Henry 


52 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


VIII., his learning, wisdom, and experience were held in such 
high estimation, that he was twice sent on important commercial 
embassies. His discretion in those employments made the king 
desirous of securing him for the service of the court; and he 
commissioned Wolsey, then Lord Chancellor, to engage him. 
But so little inclined was he to involve himself in political in¬ 
trigues, that the king’s wish was not at the time accomplished. 
Soon after, More was retained as counsel for the pope, for the 
purpose of reclaiming the forfeiture of a ship. His argument 
was so learned, and his conduct in the cause so judicious and 
upright, that the ship was restored. The king upon this insisted 
on having him in his service; and, as the first step to prefer¬ 
ment, made him Master of the Requests, a Knight, and Privy 
Councillor. 

In 1520 he was made Treasurer of the Exchequer: he then 
bought a house by the river-side at Chelsea, where he had 
settled with his family. He had at that time buried his first 
wife and was married to a second. He continued in the king’s 
service full twenty years, during which time his royal master 
conferred with him on various subjects, including astronomy, 
geometry, and divinity; and frequently consulted him on his 
private concerns. More’s pleasant temper and witty conversa¬ 
tion made him such a favourite at the palace as almost to 
estrange him from his own family; and under these circum¬ 
stances his peculiar humour manifested itself; for he so re¬ 
strained the natural bias of his freedom and mirth as to render 
himself a less amusing companion, and at length to be seldom 
sent for hut on occasions of business. 

A more important circumstance gave More much consequence 
with the king. The latter was preparing his answer to Luther, 
and Sir Thomas assisted him in the controversy. While this 
was going on, the king one day came to dine with him ; and 
after dinner walked with him in the garden with his arm round 
his neck. After Henry’s departure, Mr. Roper, Sir Thomas’s 
son-in-law, remarked on the king’s familiarity, as exceeding 
even that used towards Cardinal Wolsey, with whom he had 
only once been seen to walk arm in arm. The answer of Sir 
Thomas was shrewd and almost prophetic. “I find his grace 
my very good lord indeed, and I believe he doth as singularly 
favour me as any subject within this realm. However, Son 


SIR THOMAS MORE. 


53 


Roper, I may tell thee, I have no cause to be proud thereof; 
for if my head would win him a castle in France, it should not 
fail to go.” 

In 1523 he was chosen speaker of the House of Commons, 
and displayed great intrepidity in the discharge of that office. 
Wolsey was afraid lest this parliament should refuse a great 
subsidy about to be demanded, and announced his intention of 
being present at the debate. He had previously expressed his 
indignation at the publicity given to the proceedings of the 
house, which he had compared to the gossip of an ale-house. 
Sir Thomas More therefore persuaded the members to admit 
not only the cardinal, but all his pomp; his maces, poll-axes, 
crosses, hat, and great seal. The reason he assigned was, that, 
should the like fault be imputed to them hereafter, they might 
be able to shift the blame on the shoulders of his grace’s attend¬ 
ants. The proposal of the subsidy was met with the negative 
of profound silence; and the speaker declared that, “except 
every member could put into his one head all their several wits, 
he alone in so weighty a matter was unmeet to make his grace 
answer.” After the parliament had broken up, Wolsey ex¬ 
pressed his displeasure against the speaker in his own gallery 
at Whitehall; but More, with his usual quiet humour, parried 
the attack by a ready compliment to the taste and splendour of 
the room in which they were conversing. 

On the death of Sir Richard Wingfield, the king promoted 
Sir Thomas to the Chancellorship of the Duchy of Lancaster. 
At this time the see of Rome became vacant, and Wolsey aspired 
to the papacy; but Charles Y. disappointed him, and procured 
the election of Cardinal Adrian. In revenge, Wolsey contrived 
to persuade Henry that Catharine was not his lawful wife, and 
endeavoured to turn his affections towards one of the French 
king’s sisters. The case was referred to More, who was assisted 
by the most learned of the privy council; and he managed, 
difficult as it must have been to do so, to extricate both himself 
and his colleagues from the dilemma. His conduct as ambas¬ 
sador at Cambray, where a treaty of peace was negotiated 
between the emperor, France, and England, so confirmed the 
favour of his master towards him, that on the fall of the cardi¬ 
nal he was made Lord Chancellor. The great seal was delivered 
to him on the 25th of October, 1530. This favour was the 


54 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


more extraordinary, as he was the first layman on whom it was 
bestowed: but it may reasonably be suspected that the private 
motive was to engage him in the approval of the meditated di¬ 
vorce. This he probably suspected, and entered on the office 
with a full knowledge of the danger to which it exposed him. 
He performed the duties of his function for nearly three years 
with exemplary diligence, great ability, and uncorrupted in¬ 
tegrity. His resignation took place on the 16th of May, 1533. 
His motive was supposed to be a regard to his own safety, as he 
was sensible that a confirmation of the divorce would be officially 
required from him, and he was too conscientious to comply with 
the mandate of power, against his own moral and legal convictions. 

While chancellor, some of his injunctions were disapproved by 
the common law judges. He therefore invited them to dine 
with him in the council chamber, and proved to them by pro¬ 
fessional arguments that their complaints were unfounded. He 
then proposed that they should themselves mitigate the rigour 
of the law by their own conscientious discretion ; in which case, 
he would grant no more injunctions. This they refused; and 
the consequence was, that he continued that practice in equity 
which has come down to the present day. 

It was through the intervention of his friend the Duke of 
Norfolk that he procured his discharge from the laborious, and, 
under the circumstances of the time, the dangerous eminence 
of the chancellorship, which he quitted in honourable poverty. 
After the payment of his debts, he had not the value of one 
hundred pounds in gold and silver, nor more than twenty marks 
a year in land. On this occasion his love of a jest did not 
desert him. While chancellor, as soon as the church service 
was over, one of his train used to go to his lady’s pew, and say, 
“Madam, my Lord is gone!” On the first holiday after his 
train had been dismissed, he performed that ceremony himself, 
and by saying at the end of the service, “Madam, my Lord is 
gone,” gave his wife the first intimation that he had surrendered 
the great seal. 

He had resolved never again to engage in public business*, 
but the divorce, and still more the subsequent marriage with 
Anne Boleyn, which nothing could induce him to favour, with 
the king’s alienation from the see of Rome, raised a storm over 
his head, from which his voluntary seclusion at Chelsea, in study 


SIR THOMAS MORE. 


55 


and devotion, could not shelter him. When tempting offers 
proved ineffectual to win him over to sanction Anne Boleyn’s 
coronation by his high legal authority, threats and terrors were 
resorted to: his firmness was not to be shaken, but his ruin was 
determined, and ultimately accomplished. In the next parlia¬ 
ment he, and his friend Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, were 
attainted of treason and misprision of treason for listening to 
the ravings of Elizabeth Barton, considered by the vulgar as 
the Holy Maid of Kent, and countenancing her treasonable 
practices. His innocence was so clearly established that his 
name was erased from the bill; and it was supposed to have 
been introduced into it only for the purpose of shaking his reso¬ 
lution touching the divorce and marriage. But though he had 
escaped this snare, his firmness occasioned him to be devoted 
as a victim. Anne Boleyn took pains to exasperate the king 
against him, and when the Act of Supremacy was passed in 
1534, the oath required by it was tendered to him. The refusal 
to take it, which his principles compelled him to give, was ex¬ 
pressed in discreet and qualified terms; he was nevertheless 
taken into the custody of the Abbot of Westminster, and, upon 
a second refusal four days after, was committed prisoner to the 
Tower of London. 

Our limits will not allow us to detail many particulars of his 
life while in confinement, marked as it was by firmness, resigna¬ 
tion, and cheerfulness, resulting from a conscience, however 
much mistaken, yet void of intentional offence. His reputation 
and credit were very great in the kingdom, and much was sup¬ 
posed to depend on his conduct at this critical juncture. Arch¬ 
bishop Cranmer, therefore, urged every argument that could be 
devised to persuade him to compliance, and promises were pro¬ 
fusely made to him from the king; but neither argument nor 
promises could prevail. We will give the last of these attempts 
to shake his determination, in the words of his son-in-law, Mr. 
Roper:— 

“Mr. Rich, pretending friendly talk with him, among other 
things of a set course, said this unto him: < Forasmuch as it is 
well known, Master More, that you are a man both wise and 
well learned, as well in the laws of the realm as otherwise, I 
pray you, therefore, sir, let me be so bold as of good-will to put 
unto you this case. Admit there were, sir, an act of parliament 


56 - LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

that the realm should take me for king; would not you, Mr. 
More, take me for king?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ quoth Sir Thomas More, 
t that would I.’ ‘I put the case further,’ quoth Mr. Rich, ‘that 
there were an act of parliament that all the realm should take 
me for pope; would not you then, Master More, take me for 
pope?’ ‘ For answer, sir,’ quoth Sir Thomas More, ‘to your 
first case, the parliament may well, Master Rich, meddle with 
the state of temporal princes; but to make answer to your other 
case, I will put you this case. Suppose the parliament would 
make a law that God should not be God; would you then, 
Master Rich, say that God were not God ?’ ‘ No sir,’ quoth he, 

‘that would I not; sith no parliament may make any such law.’ 
< No more,’ quoth Sir Thomas More, ‘ could the parliament make 
the king supreme head.of the church.’ Upon whose only report 
was Sir Thomas indicted of high treason on the statute to deny 
the king to be supreme head of the Church, into which indict¬ 
ment were put these heinous words, maliciously , traitorously , 
and diabolically .” 

Sir Thomas More, in his defence, alleged many arguments to 
the discredit of Rich’s evidence, and in proof of the clearness 
of his own conscience; hut all this was of no avail, and the jury 
found him guilty. When asked in the usual manner why 
judgment should not be passed against him, he argued against 
the indictment as grounded on an act of parliament repugnant 
to the laws of God and the Church, the government of which 
belonged to the see of Rome, and could not lawfully be assumed 
by any temporal prince. The lord chancellor, however, and 
the other commissioners, gave judgment against him. 

He remained in the Tower a week after his sentence, and 
during that time he was uniformly firm and composed, and even 
his peculiar vein of cheerfulness remained unimpaired. It 
accompanied him even to the scaffold, on going up to which, he 
said to the Lieutenant of the Tower, “I pray you, Master Lieu¬ 
tenant, see me safe up, and for my coming down let me shift 
for myself.” After his prayers were ended he turned to the 
-executioner, and said, with a cheerful countenance, “ Pluck up 
thy spirits, man, and he not afraid to do thine office. My neck 
is very short, take heed, therefore, thou strike not awry for 
thine own credit’s sake.” Then, laying his head upon the 
block, he bid the executioner stay till he had removed his 


SIR THOMAS MORE. 


57 


beard, saying, “My beard has never committed any treason;” 
and immediately the fatal blow was given. These, witticisms 
have so repeatedly run the gauntlet through all the jest-books 
that it would hardly have been worth while to repeat them here, 
were it not for the purpose of introducing the comment of Mr. 
Addison on Sir Thomas’s behaviour on this solemn occasion. 
“What was only philosophy in this extraordinary man, would 
be frenzy in one who does not resemble him as well in the 
cheerfulness of his temper as in the sanctity of his manners.” 

He was executed on St. Thomas’s eve, in the year 1535. 
The barbarous part of the sentence, so disgraceful to the Statute- 
book, was remitted. Lest serious-minded persons should sup¬ 
pose that hjs conduct on the scaffold was mere levity, it should 
be added that he addressed the people, desiring them to pray 
for him, and to bear witness that he was going to suffer death 
in and for the faith of the Holy Catholic Church. The Empe¬ 
ror Charles Y. said, on hearing of his execution, “ Had we been 
master of such a servant, we would rather have lost the best 
city of our dominions than such a worthy councillor.” 

No one was more capable of appreciating the character of 
Sir Thomas More than Erasmus, who represents him as more 
pure and white than the whitest snow, with such wit as England 
never had before, and was never likely to have again. He also 
says, that in theological discussions the most eminent divines 
were not unfrequently worsted by him ; but he adds a wish that 
he had never meddled with the subject. Sir Thomas More was 
peculiarly happy in extempore speaking, the result of a well- 
stored and ready memory, suggesting without delay whatever 
the occasion required. Thuanus also mentions him with much 
respect, as a man of strict integrity and profound learning. 

His life has been written by his son-in-law, Roper, and is the 
principal source whence this narrative is taken. Erasmus has 
also been consulted, through whose epistolary works there is 
much information about his friend. There is also a life of him 
by Ferdinando Warner, LL.D., with a translation of his Utopia, 
in an octavo volume, published in 1758. 


8 


58 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


MARTIN LUTHER. 



ARTIN LUTHER was born at Eisleben in 
Saxony in the year 1483, on the 10th of No¬ 
vember ; and if in the histories of great men 
it is usual to note with accuracy the day of 
their nativity, that of Luther has t a peculiar 
claim on the biographer, since it has been the 
especial object of horoscopical calculations, and 
has even occasioned some serious differences 
among very profound astrologers. Luther has 
been the subject of unqualified admiration and 
eulogy: he has been assailed by the most virulent 
calumnies; and, if any thing more were wanted to 
prove th q personal consideration in which he was held 
® by his contemporaries, it would be sufficient to add, 
that he has also been made a mask for their follies. 

He was of humble origin. At an early age he entered 
with zeal into the order of Augustinian Hermits, who were 
monks and mendicants. In the schools of the Nominalists he 
pursued with acuteness and success the science of sophistry. 
And he was presently raised to the theological chair at Wittem- 
berg: so that his first prejudices were enlisted in the service of 
the worst portion of the Roman Catholic Church; his opening 
reason was subjected to the most dangerous perversion; and a 
sure and early path was opened to his professional ambition. 
Such was not the discipline which could prepare the mind for 
any independent exertion; such were not the circumstances 
from which an ordinary mind could have emerged into the clear 
atmosphere of truth. In dignity a professor, in theology an 
Augustinian, in philosophy a Nominalist, by education a mendi¬ 
cant monk, Luther seemed destined to be a pillar of the Roman 
Catholic Church, and a patron of all its corruptions. 

But he possessed a genius naturally vast and penetrating, a 


MARTIN LUTHER. 


59 


memory quick and tenacious, patience inexhaustible, and a fund 
of learning very considerable for that age: above all, he had 
an erect and daring spirit, fraught with magnanimity and 
grandeur, and loving nothing so well as truth; so that his 
understanding was ever prepared to expand with the occasion, 
and his principles to change or rise, according to the increase 
and elevation of his knowledge. Nature had endued him with 
an ardent soul, a powerful and capacious understanding; edu¬ 
cation had chilled the one and contracted the other; and when 
he came forth into the fields of controversy, he had many of 
those trammels still hanging about him, which patience, and a 
succession of exertions, and the excitement of dispute, at length 
enabled him for the most part to cast away. 

In the year 1517, John Tetzel, a Dominican monk, was 
preaching in Germany the indulgences of Pope Leo X.; that 
is, he was publicly selling to all purchasers remission of all sins, 
past, present, or future, however great their number, however 
enormous their nature. The expressions with which Tetzel 
recommended his treasure appear to have been marked with 
peculiar impudence and indecency. But the act had in itself 
nothing novel or uncommon: the sale of indulgences had long 
been recognised as the practice of the Roman Catholic Church, 
and even sometimes censured by its more pious, or more prudent 
members. But the crisis was at length arrived in which the 
iniquity could no longer be repeated with impunity. The cup 
was at length full; and the hand of Luther was destined to dash 
it to the ground. In the schools of Wittemberg the professor 
publicly censured, in ninety-five propositions, not only the ex¬ 
tortion of the indulgence-mongers, but the co-operation of the 
pope in seducing the people from the true faith, and calling 
them away from the only road to salvation. 

This first act of Luther’s evangelical life has been hastily 
ascribed by at least three eminent writers of very different de¬ 
scriptions, (Bossuet, Hume, and Voltaire,) to the narrowest 
monastic motive, the jealousy of a rival order. It is asserted 
that the Augustinian friars had usually been invested in Saxony 
with the profitable commission, and that it only became offensive 
to Luth^ when it was transferred to a Dominican. There is 
no ground for that assertion. The Dominicans had been for 
nearly three centuries the peculiar favourites of the Holy See, 


60 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


and objects of all its partialities; and it is particularly remark¬ 
able, that, after the middle of the fifteenth century, during a 
period scandalously fruitful in the abuse in question, we very 
rarely meet with the name of any Augustinian as employed in 
that service. Moreover, it is almost equally important to add, 
that none of the contemporary adversaries of Luther ever ad¬ 
vanced the charge against him, even at the moment in which 
the controversy was carried on with the most unscrupulous 
rancour. 

The matter in dispute between Luther and Tetzel went in 
the first instance no farther than this—whether the pope had 
authority to remit the divine chastisements denounced against 
offenders in the present and in a future state—or whether his 
power only extended to such human punishments as form a 
part of ecclesiastical discipline—for the latter prerogative was 
not yet contested by Luther. Nevertheless, his office and his 
talents drew very general attention to the controversy; the 
German people, harassed by the exactions, and disgusted with 
the insolence of the papal emissaries, declared themselves warmly 
in favour of the reformer; while on the other hand, the sup¬ 
porters of the abuse were so violent and clamorous, that the 
sound of the altercation speedily disturbed the festivities of the 
Vatican. 

Leo X., a luxurious, indolent, and secular, though literary 
pontiff, would have disregarded the broil, and left it, like so 
many others, to subside of itself, had not the Emperor Maxi¬ 
milian assured him of the dangerous impression it had already 
made o'n the German people. Accordingly, he commanded 
Luther to appear at the approaching Diet of Augsburg, and 
justify himself before the papal legate. At the same time he 
appointed the Cardinal Caietan, a Dominican and a professed 
enemy of Luther, to be arbiter of the dispute. They met in 
October, 1518; the legate was imperious; Luther was not sub¬ 
missive. He solicited reasons; he was answered only with 
authority. He left the city in haste, and appealed “to the 
pope better informed ,”—yet it was still to the pope that he 
appealed; he still recognised his sovereign supremacy. But in 
the following month, Leo published an edict, in which he claimed 
the power of delivering sinners from all punishments due to 
every sort of transgression; and thereupon Luther, despairing 


MARTIN LUTHER. 


61 


of any reasonable accommodation with the pontiff, published an 
appeal from the pope to a general council. 

The pope then saw the expediency of conciliatory measures, 
and accordingly despatched a layman, named Miltitz, as his 
legate, with a commission to compose the difference by private 
negotiations with Luther. Miltitz united great dexterity and 
penetration with a temper naturally moderate, and not inflamed 
by ecclesiastical prejudices. Luther was still in the outset of 
his career. His opinions had not yet made any great progress 
towards maturity; he had not fully ascertained the foundations 
on which his principles were built; he had not proved by any 
experience the firmness of his own character. He yielded—at 
least so far as to express his perfect submission to the commands 
of the pope, to exhort his followers to persist in the same obe¬ 
dience, and to promise silence on the subject of indulgences, 
provided it were also imposed upon his adversaries. 

It is far too much to say (as some have said) that had Luther’s 
concession been carried into effect, the Reformation would have 
been stifled in its birth. The principles of the Reformation 
were too firmly seated in reason and in truth, and too deeply in¬ 
grafted in the hearts of the German people, to remain long 
suppressed through the infirmity of any individual advocate. 
But its progress might have been somewhat retarded, had not 
the violence of its enemies afforded it seasonable aid. A doctor 
named Eckius, a zealous satellite of papacy, invited Luther to 
a public disputation in the castle of Pleissenburg. The subject 
on which they argued was the supremacy of the Roman pontiff; 
and it was a substantial triumph for the reformer, and no 
trifling insult to papal despotism, that the appointed arbiters 
left the question undecided. 

Eckius repaired to Rome, and appealed in person to the 
offended authority of the Vatican. His remonstrances were 
reiterated and inflamed by the furious zeal of the Dominicans, 
with Caietan at their head. And thus Pope Leo, whose calmer 
and more indifferent judgment would probably have led him to 
accept the submission of Luther, and thus put the question for 
the moment at rest, was urged into measures of at least un¬ 
seasonable rigour. He published a bull on the 15th of June, 
1520, in which he solemnly condemned forty-one heresies ex¬ 
tracted from the writings of the reformer, and condemned these 

F 


62 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


to be publicly burnt. At the same time he summoned the 
author, on pain of excommunication, to confess and retract his 
pretended errors within the space of sixty days, and to throw 
himself upon the mercy of the Vatican. 

Open to the influence of mildness and persuasion, the breast 
of Luther only swelled more boldly when he was assailed by 
menace and insult. He refused the act of humiliation required 
of him ; more than that, he determined to anticipate the anathe¬ 
ma suspended over him, by at once withdrawing himself from 
the communion of the church; and again, having come to that 
resolution, he fixed upon the manner best suited to give it effi¬ 
cacy and publicity. With this view, he caused a pile of wood 
to be erected without the walls of Wittemberg, and there, in 
the presence of a vast multitude of all ranks and orders, he 
committed the bull to the flames; and with it, the decree, the 
decretals, the clementines, the extravagants, the entire code 
of Romish jurisprudence. It is necessary to observe, that he 
had prefaced this measure by a renewal of his former appeal to 
a general council; so that the extent of his resistance may be 
accurately defined: he continued a faithful member of the 
Catholic Church, but he rejected the despotism of the pope, he 
refused obedience to an unlimited and usurped authority. The 
bull of excommunication immediately followed, (January 6,1521,) 
but it fell without force; and any dangerous effect, which it 
might otherwise have produced, was obviated by the provident 
boldness of Luther. 

Here was the origin of the Reformation. This was the irre¬ 
parable breach, which gradually widened to absolute disruption. 
The reformer was now compromised, by his conduct, by his 
principles, perhaps even by his passions. He had crossed the 
bounds which divided insubordination from rebellion, and his 
banners were openly unfurled, and his legions pressed forward 
on the march to Rome. Henceforth the champion of the Gos¬ 
pel entered with more than his former courage on the pursuit 
of truth; and having shaken off one of the greatest and earliest 
of the prejudices in which he had been educated, he proceeded 
with fearless independence to examine and dissipate the rest. 

Charles V. succeeded Maximilian in the empire in the year 
1519; and since Frederic of Saxony persisted in protecting the 
person of the reformer, Leo X. became the more anxious to 


MARTIN LUTHER. 


63 


arouse the imperial indignation in defence of the injured majesty 
of the church. In 1521 a diet was assembled at Worms, and 
Luther was summoned to plead his cause before it. A safe- 
conduct was granted him by the emperor; and on the 17th of 
April he presented himself before the august aristocracy of 
Germany. This audience gave occasion to the most splendid 
scene in his history. His friends were yet few, and of no great 
influence; his enemies were numerous and powerful, and eager 
for his destruction: the cause of truth, the hopes of religious 
regeneration, appeared to be placed at that moment in the dis¬ 
cretion and constaacy of one man. The faithful trembled. But 
Luther had then cast off the incumbrances of early fears and 
prepossessions, and was prepared to give a free course to his 
earnest and unyielding character. His manner and expressions 
abounded with respect and humility; but in the matter of his 
public apology he declined in no one particular from the fulness 
of his conviction. Of the numerous opinions which he had by 
this time adopted at variance with the injunctions of Rome, 
there was not one which in the hour of danger he consented to 
compromise. The most violent exertions were made by the 
papal party to effect his immediate ruin; and there were some 
who were not ashamed to counsel a direct violation of the im¬ 
perial safe-conduct: it was designed to re-enact the crimes of 
Constance, after the interval of a century, on another theatre. 
But the infamous proposal was soon rejected; and it was on 
this occasion that Charles is recorded to have replied with 
princely indignation, that if honour were banished from every 
other residence, it ought to find refuge in the breasts of kings. 

Luther was permitted to retire from the diet; but he had not 
proceeded far on his return when he was surprised by a number 
of armed men, and carried away into captivity. It was an act 
of friendly violence. A temporary concealment was thought 
necessary for his present security, and he was hastily conveyed 
to the solitary castle of Wartenburg. In the mean time the 
assembly issued the declaration known in history as the “ Edict 
of Worms,” in which the reformer was denounced as an ex¬ 
communicated schismatic and heretic; and all his friends and 
adherents, all who protected or conversed with him, were pur¬ 
sued by censures and penalties. The cause of papacy ob¬ 
tained a momentary, perhaps only a seeming triumph, for it 


64 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

was not followed by any substantial consequences; and while 
the anathematized reformer lay in safety in his secret Patmos , 
as he used to call it, the emperor withdrew to other parts of 
Europe to prosecute schemes and interests which then seemed 
far more important than the religious tenets of a German monk. 

While Luther was in retirement, his disciples at Wittemberg, 
under the guidance of Carlostadt, a man of learning and piety, 
proceeded to put into force some of the first principles of the 
Reformation. They would have restrained by compulsion the 
superstition of private masses, and torn away from the churches 
the proscribed images. Luther disapproved of the violence of 
these measures; or it may also be, as some impartial writers 
have insinuated, that he grudged to any other than himself the 
glory of achieving them. Accordingly, after an exile of ten 
months, he suddenly came forth from his place of refuge, and 
appeared at Wittemberg. Had he then confined his influence 
to the introduction of a more moderate policy among the re¬ 
formers, many plausible arguments might have been urged in 
his favour. But he also appears, unhappily, to have been ani¬ 
mated by a personal animosity against Carlostadt, which was 
displayed both then and afterwards in some acts not very far 
removed from persecution. 

The marriage of Luther, and his marriage to a nun, was the 
event of his life which gave most triumph to his enemies, and 
perplexity to his friends. It was in perfect conformity with 
his masculine and daring mind, that having satisfied himself of 
the nullity of his monastic vows, he should take the boldest 
method of displaying to the world how utterly he rejected them. 
Others might have acted differently, and abstained, either from 
conscientious scruples, or, being satisfied in their own minds, 
from fear to give offence to their weaker brethren; and it would 
be presumptuous to condemn either course of action. It is 
proper to mention that this marriage did not take place till the 
year 1525, a*fter Luther had long formally rejected many of the 
observances of the Roman Catholic Church; and that the nun 
whom he espoused had quitted her convent, and renounced her 
profession some time before. 

The war of the peasants, and the fanaticism of Munster and 
his followers, presently afterwards desolated Germany; and the 
papal party did not lose that occasion to vilify the principles 


MARTIN LUTHER. 


65 


of the reformers, and identify the revolt from a spiritual des¬ 
potism with general insurrection and massacre. It is therefore 
necessary here to observe, that the false enthusiasm of Munster 
was perhaps first detected and denounced by Luther; and that 
the pen of the latter was incessantly employed in deprecating 
every act of civil insubordination. He was the loudest in his 
condemnation of some acts of spoliation by laymen, who appro¬ 
priated the monastic revenues; and at a subsequent period so 
far did he carry his principles, so averse was he, not only from 
the use of offensive violence, but even from the employment of 
force in the defence of his cause, that on some later occasions 
he exhorted the Elector of Saxony by no means to oppose the 
imperial edicts by arms, but rather to consign the persons and 
principles of the reformers to the protection of Providence. 
For lie was inspired with a holy confidence that Christ would 
not desert his faithful followers, but rather find means to ac¬ 
complish his work without the agitation of civil disorders, or 
the intervention of the sword. That confidence evinced the 
perfect earnestness of his professions, and his entire devotion 
to the truth of his principles. It also proved that he had given 
himself up to the cause in which he had engaged, and that he 
was elevated above the consideration of personal safety. This 
was no effeminate enthusiasm, no passionate aspiration after the 
glory of martyrdom! It was the working of the Spirit of God 
upon an ardent nature, impressed with the divine character of 
the mission with which it was intrusted, and assured, against all 
obstacles, of final and perfect success. 

As this is not a history of the Reformation, but only a sketch 
of the life of an individual reformer, we shall at once proceed 
to an affair strongly, though not very favourably, illustrating 
his character. The subject of the eucharist commanded, among 
the various doctrinal differences, perhaps the greatest attention; 
and in this matter Luther receded but a short space, and with 
unusual timidity, from the faith in which he had been educated. 
He admitted the real corporeal presence in the elements, and 
differed from the church only as to the manner of that presence. 
He rejected the actual and perfect change of 'substance, but 
supposed the flesh to subsist in, or with the bread, as fire sub¬ 
sists in red-hot iron. Consequently, he renounced the term 
transubstantiation, and substituted consubstantiation in its place. 

9 f 2 


66 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


In the mean time, Zuinglius, the reformer of Zuric, had ex¬ 
amined the same question with greater independence, and had 
reached the bolder conclusion, that the bread and wine are no 
more than external signs, intended to revive our recollections 
and animate our piety. This opinion was adopted by Carlo- 
stadt, (Ecolampadius, and other fathers, of the Reformation, 
and followed by the Swiss Protestants, and generally by the 
free cities of the Empire. Those who held it were called Sacra- 
mentarians. The opinion of Luther prevailed in Saxony, and 
in the more northern provinces of Germany. 

The difference was important. It was felt to be so by the 
reformers themselves; and the Lutheran party expressed that 
sentiment with too little moderation. The Papists, or Papalins, 
(Papalini,) were alert in perceiving the division, in exciting the 
dissension, and in inflaming it, if possible, into absolute schism ; 
and in this matter it must be admitted, that Luther himself was 
too much disposed by his intemperate vehemence to further their 
design. These discords were becoming dangerous; and in 1529, 
Philip, Landgrave of Hesse, the most ardent among the pro¬ 
tectors of the Reformation, assembled the leading doctors of 
either party to a public disputation at Marburg. The par¬ 
ticulars of this conference are singularly interesting to the 
theological reader; but it is here sufficient to mention, without 
entering into the doctrinal merits of the controversy, that what¬ 
ever was imperious in assertion and overbearing in authority, 
and unyielding and unsparing in polemical altercation, pro¬ 
ceeded from the mouth and party of Luther; that every ap¬ 
proach to humility, and self-distrust, and mutual toleration, 
and common friendship, came from the side of Zuinglius and 
the Sacramentarians. And we are bound to add, that the same 
uncompromising spirit, which precluded Luther from all co¬ 
operation or fellowship with those whom he thought in error, (it 
was the predominant spirit of the church which he had deserted,) 
continued on future occasions to interrupt and even endanger 
the work of his own hands. But that very spirit was the vice 
of a character, which endured no moderation or concession in 
any matter wherein Christian truth was concerned, but which 
too hastily assumed its own infallibility in ascertaining that 
truth. Luther would have excommunicated the Sacramenta¬ 
rians ; and he did not perceive how precisely his principle was 


MARTIN LUTHER. 67 

the same with that of the church which had excommunicated 
himself. 

Luther was not present at the celebrated Diet of Augsburg, 
held under the superintendence of Charles Y. in 1530; but he 
was in constant correspondence with Melancthon during that 
fearful period, and in the reproofs which he cast on the tempo¬ 
rising? though perhaps necessary, negotiations of the latter, he 
at least exhibited his own uprightness and impetuosity. The 
“ Confession” of the Protestants, there published, was constructed 
on the basis of seventeen articles previously drawn up by 
Luther; and it was not without his counsels that the faith, 
permanently adopted by the church which bears his name, was 
finally digested and matured. From that crisis the history of 
the Reformation took more of a political, less of a religious 
character, and the name of Luther is therefore less prominent 
than in the earlier proceedings. But he still continued for 
sixteen years longer to exert his energies in the cause which 
was peculiarly his own, and to influence by his advice and 
authority the new ecclesiastical system. 

He died in the year 1546, the same, as it singularly happened, 
in which the Council of Trent assembled, for the self-reforma¬ 
tion and re-union of the Roman Catholic Church. But that 
attempt, even had it been made with judgment and sincerity, 
was then too late. During the twenty-nine years which com¬ 
posed the public life of Luther, the principles of the Gospel, 
having fallen upon hearts already prepared for their reception, 
were rooted beyond the possibility of extirpation; and when the 
great reformer closed his eyes upon the scene of his earthly 
toils and glory, he might depart in the peaceful confidence that 
the objects of his mission were virtually accomplished, and the 
work of the Lord placed in security by the same heaven-directed 
hand which had raised it from the dust. 


68 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


PHILIP MELANCTHON. 



HILIP was the son of a respectable engineer 
named Schwartzerde, that is, Black-earth, a 
name which he Grecized at a very early age, 
as soon as his literary tastes and talents 
began to display themselves,—assuming, in 
compliance with the suggestion of his dis¬ 
tinguished kinsman Reuchlin or Capnio, and 
according to the fashion of the age, the classical 
synonyme of Melancthon. He was born at 
Bretten, a place near Wittemberg, February, 16, 
1497. He commenced his studies at Heidelberg 
in 1509; and after three years was removed to 
Tubingen, where he remained till 1518. These cir¬ 
cumstances are in this instance not undeserving of 
notice, because Melancthon gave from his very boyhood 
abundant proofs of an active and brilliant genius, and 
acquired some juvenile distinctions which have been recorded 
by grave historians, and have acquired him a place among the 
“ Enfans C^lebres” of Baillet. During his residence at Tubingen 
he gave public lectures on Virgil, Terence, Cicero, and Livy, 
while he was pursuing with equal ardour his biblical studies; 
and he had leisure besides to furnish assistance to Reuchlin in 
his dangerous contests with the monks, and to direct the opera¬ 
tions of a printing-press. The course of learning and genius, 
when neither darkened by early prejudice nor perverted by 
personal interests, ever points to liberality and virtue. In the 
case of Melancthon this tendency was doubtless confirmed by 
the near spectacle of monastic oppression and bigotry; and 
thus we cannot question that he had imbibed, even before his 
departure from Tubingen, the principles which enlightened his 
subsequent career, and which throw the brightest glory upon 
his memory. 



PHILIP MELANCTHON. 


69 


In 1518 (at the age of twenty-one) he was raised to the pro¬ 
fessorship of Greek in the University of Wittemberg. The 
moment was critical. Luther, who occupied the theological 
chair in the same university, had just published his “Ninety- 
five Propositions against the Abuse of Indulgences,” and was 
entering step by step into a contest with the Vatican. He was 
in possession of great personal authority; he was older by four¬ 
teen years, and was endowed with a far more commanding 
spirit, than his brother professor; and thus, in that intimacy 
with local circumstances and similarity of sentiments imme¬ 
diately cemented between these two eminent persons, the 
ascendancy was naturally assumed by Luther, and maintained 
to the end of his life. Melancthon was scarcely established at 
Wittemberg when he addressed to the reformer some very 
flattering expressions of admiration, couched in indifferent 
Greek iambics; and in the year following he attended him to 
the public disputations which he held with Eckius on the su¬ 
premacy of the Pope. Here he first beheld the strife into 
which he was destined presently to enter, and learned the dis¬ 
tasteful rudiments of theological controversy. 

Two years afterwards, when certain of the opinions of Luther 
were violently attacked by the Faculty of Paris, Melancthon 
interposed to defend their author, to repel some vain charges 
which were brought against him, and to ridicule the pride and 
ignorance of the doctors of the Sorbonne. About the same 
time he engaged in the more delicate question respecting the 
celibacy of the clergy, and opposed the popish practice with 
much zeal and learning. This was a subject which he had 
always nearest his heart, and, in the discussions to which it led, 
he surpassed even Luther in the earnestness of his argument; 
and he at least had no personal interest in the decision, as he 
never took orders. 

In 1528 it was determined to impose a uniform rule of 
doctrine and discipline upon the ministers of the reformed 
churches; and the office of composing it was assigned to Me¬ 
lancthon. He published, in eighteen chapters, an “ Instruction 
to the Pastors of the Electorate of Saxony,” in which he made 
the first formal exposition of the doctrinal system of the re¬ 
formers. The work was promulgated with the approbation of 
Luther; and the article concerning the bodily presence in the 


70 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


eucharist conveyed the opinion of the master rather than that 
of the disciple. Yet were there other points so moderately 
treated and set forth in so mild and compromising a temper, as 
sufficiently to mark Melancthon as the author of the document; 
and so strong was the impression produced upon the Roman 
Catholics themselves by its character and spirit, that many con¬ 
sidered it the composition of a disguised friend; and Faber even 
ventured to make personal overtures to the composer, and to 
hold forth the advantages that he might hope to attain by a 
seasonable return to the bosom of the Apostolic Church. 

The Diet of Augsburg was summoned soon afterwards, and it 
assembled in 1530, for the reconciliation of all differences. 
This being at least the professed object of both parties, it was 
desirable that the conferences should be conducted by men of 
moderation, disposed to soften the subjects of dissension, and 
to mitigate by temper and manner the bitterness of controversy. 

For this delicate office Luther was entirely disqualified, 
whereas the reputation of Melancthon presented precisely the 
qualities that seemed to be required; the management of the 
negotiations was accordingly confided to him. But not without 
the near superintendence of Luther. The latter was resident 
close at hand; he was in perpetual communication with his dis¬ 
ciple, and influenced most of his proceedings; and, at least 
during the earlier period of the conferences, he only not sug¬ 
gested the matter, but even authorized the form, of the official 
documents. 

It was thus that the “ Confession of Augsburg” was composed; 
and we observe on its very surface thus much of the spirit of 
conciliation, that of its twenty-eight chapters, twenty-one were 
devoted to the exposition of the opinions of the reformers, while 
seven only were directed against the tenets of their adversaries. 
In the tedious and perplexing negotiations that followed, some 
concessions were privately proposed by Melancthon, which could 
scarcely have been sanctioned by Luther, as they were incon¬ 
sistent with the principles of the reformation and the inde¬ 
pendence of the reformers. In some letters written towards 
the conclusion of the diet, he acknowledged in the strongest 
terms the authority of the Roman Church and all its hierarchy; 
he asserted that there was positively no doctrinal difference 
between the parties; that the whole dispute turned on matters 


PHILIP MELANCTHON. 


71 


of discipline and practice; and that, if the pope would grant 
only a provisional toleration on the two points of the double 
communion and the marriage of the clergy, it would not be 
difficult to remove all other differences, not excepting that re¬ 
specting the mass. “ Concede,” he says to the pope’s legate, 
u or pretend to concede those two points, and we will submit to 
the bishops; and if some slight differences shall still remain 
between the two parties, they will not occasion any breach of 
union, because there is no difference on any point of faith, and 
they will be governed by the same bishops; and these bishops, 
having once recovered their authority, will be able in process 
of time to correct defects which must now of necessity be tole¬ 
rated.” On this occasion Melancthon took counsel of Erasmus 
rather than of Luther. It was his object at any rate to prevent 
the war with which the Protestants were threatened, and from 
which he may have expected their destruction. But the perfect 
and almost unconditional submission to the Roman hierarchy, 
which he proposed as the only alternative, would have ac¬ 
complished the same purpose much more certainly; and Pro¬ 
testant writers have observed, that the bitterest enemy of the 
Reformation could have suggested no more effectual or insidious 
method of subverting it, than that which was so warmly pressed 
upon the Roman CathQlics by Melancthon himself. Luther was 
indignant when he heard of these proceedings; he strongly 
urged Melancthon to break off the negotiations, and to abide 
by the Confession. Indeed, it appears that these degrading 
concessions to avowed enemies produced, as is ever the case, 
no other effect than to increase their pride and exalt their ex¬ 
pectations, and so lead them to demand still more unworthy 
conditions, and a still more abject humiliation. 

Howbeit, the reputation of Melancthon was raised by the 
address which he displayed during these deliberations; and the 
variety of his talents and the extent of his erudition became 
more generally known and more candidly acknowledged. The 
modesty of his character, the moderation of his temper, the 
urbanity of his manners, his flexible and accommodating mind, 
recommended him to the regard of all, and especially to the 
patronage of the great. He was considered as the peace-maker 
of the age. All who had any hopes of composing the existing 
dissensions and preventing the necessity of absolute schism, 


72 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


placed their trust in the mildness of his expedients. The ser¬ 
vice which he had endeavoured to render to the emperor was 
sought by the two other- powerful monarchs of that time. 
Francis I. invited him to France in 1585, to reconcile the 
growing differences of his subjects; and even Henry VIII. 
expressed a desire for his presence and his counsels; but the 
elector could not be persuaded to consent to his departure from 
Saxony. 

In 1541 he held a public disputation with Eckius at Worms, 
which lasted three days. The conference was subsequently 
removed to Ratisbon, and continued, with pacific professions 
and polemic arguments, during the same year, with no other 
result than an expressed.understanding that both parties should 
refer their claims to a general council, and abide by its decision. 

In the mean time, as the popes showed great reluctance to 
summon any such council, unless it should assemble in Italy 
and deliberate under their immediate superintendence, and as 
the reformers constantly refused to submit to so manifest a 
compromise of their claims, it seemed likely that some time 
might elapse before the disputants should have any opportunity 
of making their appeal. Wherefore the emperor, not brooking this 
delay, and willing by some provisional measure to introduce 
immediate harmony between the parties,, published in 1548, a 
formulary of temporary concord, under the name of the Interim. 
It proclaimed the conditions of peace, which were to be binding 
only till the decision of the general council. The conditions 
were extremely advantageous, as might well have been expected, 
to the Roman Catholic claims. Nevertheless, they gave com¬ 
plete satisfaction to neither party, and only animated to farther 
arrogance the spirit of those whom they favoured. 

The Interim was promulgated at the diet held at Augsburg, 
and it was followed by a long succession of conferences, which 
were carried on at Leipzig and in other places, under the Pro¬ 
testant auspices of Maurice of Saxony. Here was an excellent 
field for the talents and character of Melancthon. All the 
public documents of the Protestants were composed by him. 
All the acuteness of his reason, all the graces of his style, all 
the resources of his learning were brought into light and action; 
and much that he wrote in censure of the Interim was written 
with force and truth. But here, as on former occasions, the 


PHILIP MELANCTHON. 


78 


effects of his genius were marred by the very moderation of his 
principles, and the practical result of his labours was not bene¬ 
ficial to the cause which he intended to serve. For in this 
instance he not only did not conciliate the enemies to whom he 
made too large concessions, but he excited distrust and offence 
among his friends; and these feelings were presently exasperated 
into absolute schism. 

On the death of Luther, two years before these conferences, 
the foremost place among the reformers had unquestionably de¬ 
volved upon Melancthon. He had deserved that eminence by 
his various endowments and his uninterrupted exertions: yet 
was he not the character most fitted to occupy it at that crisis. 
His incurable thirst for universal esteem and regard; his per¬ 
petual anxiety to soothe his enemies and soften the bigotry of 
the hierarchy, frequently seduced him into unworthy compro¬ 
mises, which lowered his own cause, without obtaining either 
advantage or respect from his adversaries. It is not thus that 
the ferocity of intolerance can be disarmed. The lust of reli¬ 
gious domination cannot be satisfied by soothing words, or 
appeased by any exercise of religious charity. It is too blind 
to imagine any motive for the moderation of an enemy, except 
the consciousness of weakness. It is too greedy to accept any 
partial concession, except as a pledge of still farther humiliation, 
to end in absolute submission. It can be successfully opposed 
only by the same unbending resolution which itself displays, 
tempered by a calmer judgment and animated by a more 
righteous purpose. 

The general principle by which the controversial writings of 
Melancthon at this time were guided Vas this—that there were 
certain essentials which admitted of no compromise; but that 
the Interim might be received as a rule in respect to things 
which were indifferent. Hence arose the necessary inquiry, 
what could properly be termed indifferent. It was the object 
of Melancthon to extend their number, so as to include as many 
as possible of the points in dispute, and narrow the field of con¬ 
tention with the Roman Catholics. In the pursuance of this 
charitable design be did not foresee—first, that he would not 
advance thereby a single step towards the conciliation of their 
animosity—next, that he would so^ amongst the reformers 
themselves the seeds of intestine discord: but so, unhappily, it 
10 G 


74 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


proved; and the feeble expedient which was intended to repel 
the danger from without, multiplied that danger by introducing 
schism and disorder within. 

Indeed, we can scarcely wonder that it was so: for we find 
that among the matters to be accounted indifferent, and under 
that name conceded, Melancthon ventured to place the doctrine 
of justification by faith alone; the necessity of good works to 
eternal salvation; the number of the sacraments; the juris¬ 
diction claimed by the pope and the bishops; extreme unction; 
and the observance of certain religious festivals, and several 
superstitious rites and ceremonies. It was not possible that the 
more intimate associates of Luther—the men who had struggled 
by his side, who were devoted to his person and his memory, 
who inherited his opinions and his principles, and who were 
animated by some portion of his zeal—should stand by in silence, 
and permit some of the dearest objects of their own struggles 
and the vigils of their master to be offered up to the foe by the 
irresolute hand of Melancthon. Accordingly, a numerous party 
rose, who disclaimed his principles and rejected his authority. 
At their head was Illyricus Flacius, a fierce polemic, who pos¬ 
sessed the intemperance without the genius of Luther. The 
contest commonly known as the Adiaphoristic Controversy 
broke out with great fury; it presently extended its character 
so as to embrace various collateral points; and the Roman 
Catholics were once more edified by the welcome spectacle of 
Protestant dissension. 

Melancthon held his last fruitless conference with the Roman 
Catholics at Worms in the year 1557; and he died three years 
afterwards, at the age of 68, the same age that had been attained 
by Luther. His ashes were deposited at Wittemberg, in the 
same church with those of his master; a circumstance which is 
thus simply commemorated in his epitaph: 

Hie invicte tuus Collega, Luthere, Melancthon 
Non procul a tumulo conditur ipse tuo. 

Ut pia doctrinse concordia junxerat ambos, 

Sic sacer amborum jungit hie ossa locus. 

Some days before his death, while it was manifest that his 
end was fast approaching, Melancthon wrote on a scrap of 
paper some of the reasons which reconciled him to the prospect 


PHILIP MELANCTHON. 


75 


of his departure. Among them were these—that he should see 
God and the Son of God; that he should comprehend some 
mysteries which he was unable to penetrate on earth, such as 
these:—why it is that we are created such as we are ? what 
was the union of the two natures in Jesus Christ ? that he 
should sin no more; that he should no longer be exposed to 
vexations; and that he should escape from the rage of the 
theologians. We need no better proof than this how his peace¬ 
able spirit had been tortured during the decline of life by those 
interminable quarrels, which were entirely repugnant to his 
temper, and yet were perpetually forced upon him, and which 
even his own lenity had seemingly tended to augment. And it 
is even probable that the theologians from whose rage it was his 
especial hope to be delivered were those who had risen up last 
against him, and with whom his differences were as nothing 
compared to- the points on which they were agreed—his brother 
reformers. For being in this respect unfortunate, that his 
endeavours to conciliate the affections of all parties had been 
requited by the contempt and insults of all, he was yet more 
peculiarly unhappy, that the blackest contumely and the bit¬ 
terest insults proceeded from the dissentients of his own. Thus 
situated, after forty years of incessant exertions to reform, and 
at the same time to unite, the Christian world, when he beheld 
discord multiplied, and its fruits ripening in the very bosom of 
the Reformation; when he compared his own principles and his 
own conscience with the taunts which were cast against him; 
when he discovered how vain had been his mission of conciliation, 
and how ungrateful a task it was to throw oil upon the waters 
of theological controversy; when he reflected how much time 
and forbearance he had wasted in this hopeless attempt,—he 
could scarcely avoid the unwelcome suspicion that his life had 
been, in some degree, spent in vain, and that in one of the 
dearest objects of his continual endeavours he had altogether 
failed. 

The reason was, that the extreme mildness of his own dis¬ 
position blinded him to the very nature of religious contests, 
and inspired him with amiable hopes which could not possibly 
be realized. He may have been a better man than Luther; he 
may even have been a wiser; he had as great acuteness; he 
had more learning and a purer and more perspicuous style; he 


76 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

had a more charitable temper; he had a more candid mind; 
and his love for justice and truth forbade him to reject without 
due consideration even the argument of an adversary. He was 
qualified to preside as a judge in the forum of theological litiga¬ 
tion ; yet was he not well fitted for that which he was called 
upon to discharge, the office of an advocate. He saw too much, 
for he saw both sides of the question; his very knowledge, 
acting upon his natural modesty, made him diffident. He 
balanced, he reflected, he doubted; and he became, through 
that very virtue, a tame sectarian and a feeble partisan. 

But his literary talents were of the highest order, and were 
directed with great success to almost all the departments of learn¬ 
ing. He composed abridgments of all the branches of philosophy, 
which continued long in use among the students of Germany, 
and purified the liberal arts from the dross which was mixed up 
with them. And it was thus that he would have purified reli¬ 
gion; and as he had introduced the one reformation without 
violence, so he thought to accomplish the other without schism. 
But he comprehended not the character of the Roman Catholic 
priesthood, nor could he conceive the tenacity and the passion 
with which men, in other respects reasonable and respectable, 
will cling to the interests, the prejudices, the abuses, the very 
vices, which are associated with their profession. It was an 
easy matter to him to confound the superstitious rites and tenets 
of Rome by his profound learning and eloquent arguments; 
but it was another and a far different task to deal with the 
offended feelings of an implacable hierarchy. And thus it is, 
that while we admire his various acquirements and eminent 
literary talents, and praise the moderation of his charitable 
temper, we remark the wisdom of that Providence which in¬ 
trusted the arduous commencement of the work of reformation 
to firmer and ruder hands than his. 

Melancthon’s printed works are very numerous. The most 
complete edition of them is that of Wittemberg, 1680—3, in 
four volumes folio. 


THOMAS CRANMER. 


77 


THOMAS CRANMER. 



HOMAS CRANMER was born July 2, 1489, 
at Aslacton, in Nottinghamshire. He was 
descended from an ancient family, which had 
long been resident in that county. At the 
age of fourteen he was sent to Jesus College, 
Cambridge; where he obtained a fellowship, 
which he soon vacated by marriage with a 
young woman who is said to have been of hum¬ 
ble condition. Within a year after his marriage 
he became a widower, and was immediately, by 
unusual favour, restored to his fellowship. In 1528, 
he w^as admitted to the degree of doctor of divinity, 
and appointed one of the public examiners in that 
faculty. Here he found an opportunity of showing 
the fruits of that liberal course of study which he had 
been for some time pursuing. As soon as his teachers 
left him at liberty, he had wandered from the works of the 
schoolmen to the ancient classics and the Bible; and, thus pre 
pared for the office of examiner, he alarmed the candidates for 
degrees in theology by the novelty of requiring from them some 
knowledge of the Scriptures. 

It was from this useful employment that he was called to 
take part in the memorable proceedings of Henry the Eighth, 
in the matter of his divorce from Catherine. 

Henry had been counselled to lay his case before the uni¬ 
versities, both at home and abroad. Cranmer, to whom the 
subject had been mentioned by Gardiner and Fox, went a step 
farther, and suggested that he should receive their decision as 
sufficient without reference to the pope. This suggestion was 
communicated to the king, who, observing, with his usual ele¬ 
gance of expression, that the man had got the sow by the right 




78 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ear, summoned Cranmer to his presence, and immediately re¬ 
ceived him into his favour and confidence. 

In 1531, Cranmer accompanied the unsuccessful embassy to 
Rome, and in the following year was appointed ambassador to 
the emperor. In August, 1532, the archbishopric of Canterbury 
became vacant by the death of Warham, and it was Henry’s 
pleasure to raise Cranmer to the primacy. The latter seems 
to have been truly unwilling to accept his promotion; and when 
he found that no reluctance on his part could shake the king’s 
resolution, he suggested a difficulty which there was no very ob¬ 
vious means of removing. The archbishop must receive his in¬ 
vestiture from the pope, and at his consecration take an oath 
of fidelity to his holiness, altogether inconsistent with another 
oath, taken at the same time, of allegiance to the king. All 
this had been done without scruple by other bishops; but Cran¬ 
mer was already convinced that the papal authority in England 
was a mere usurpation, and plainly told Henry that he would 
receive the archbishopric from him alone. Henry was not a 
man to be stopped by scruples of conscience of his own or 
others; so he consulted certain casuists, who settled the matter 
by suggesting that Cranmer should take the obnoxious oath, 
with a protest that he meant nothing by it. He yielded to the 
command of his sovereign and the judgment of the casuists. 
His protest was read by himself three times in the most public 
manner, and solemnly recorded. It is expedient to notice that 
the transaction was public, because some historians, to make a 
bad matter worse, still talk of a private protest. 

In 1533, he pronounced sentence of divorce against the un¬ 
happy Catherine, and confirmed the marriage of the king with 
Anne Boleyn. He was now at leisure to contemplate all the 
difficulties of his situation. It is'commonly said that Cranmer 
himself had, at this time, made but small progress in Protest¬ 
antism. It is true that he yet adhered to many of the peculiar 
doctrines of the Roman Church; but he had reached, and firmly 
occupied, a position which placed him by many degrees nearer 
to the reformed faith than to that in which he had been educated. 
By recognising the Scriptures alone as the standard of the 
Christian faith, he had embraced the very principle out of which 
Protestantism flows. It had already led him to the Protestant 
doctrine respecting the pardon of sin, which necessarily swept 


THOMAS CRANMER. 


79 


away all respect for a large portion of the machinery of Roman¬ 
ism. As a religious reformer, Cranmer could look for no cordial 
and honest support from the king. Every one knows that 
Henry, when he left the pope, had no mind to estrange himself 
more than was necessary from the Papal Church, and that the 
cause of religious reformation owes no more gratitude to him, 
than the cause of political liberty owes to those tyrants who, 
for their own security, and often by very foul means, have 
laboured to crush the power of equally tyrannical nobles. From 
Gardiner, who, with his party, had been most active and un¬ 
scrupulous in helping the king to his divorce and destroying 
papal supremacy, Cranmer had nothing to expect but open or 
secret hostility, embittered by personal jealousy. Cromwell, 
indeed, was ready to go with him any lengths in reform con¬ 
sistent with his own safety; but a sincere reformer must have 
been occasionally hampered by an alliance with a worldly and 
unconscientious politician. The country at large was in a state 
of unusual excitement; but the rupture with Rome was regarded 
with at least as much alarm as satisfaction; and it was notorious 
that many, who were esteemed for their wisdom and piety, con¬ 
sidered the position of the church to be monstrous and' un¬ 
natural. The Lollards, who had been driven into concealment, 
but not extinguished, by centuries of persecution, and the 
Lutherans, wished well to Cranmer’s measures of reform: but 
he was not equally friendly to them. They had outstripped 
him in the search of truth; and he was unhappily induced to 
sanction at least a miserable persecution of those men with 
whom he was afterwards to be numbered and to suffer. 

His first and most pressing care was by all means to reconcile 
the minds of men to the assertion of the king’s ecclesiastical 
supremacy, because all further changes must necessarily proceed 
from the royal authority. He then addressed himself to what 
seem to have been the three- great objects of his official exer¬ 
tions,—the reformation of the clerical body, so as to make their 
ministerial services more useful; the removal of the worst part 
of the prevailing superstitious observances, which were a great 
bar to the introduction of a more spiritual worship; and above 
all, the free circulation of the Scriptures among the people in 
their own language. In this last object he was opportunely 
assisted by the printing of what is called Matthews’s Bible, by 


80 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


Grafton and Whitchurch. He procured, through the inter¬ 
vention of Cromwell, the king’s license for the publication, and 
an injunction that a copy of it should be placed in every parish 
church. He hailed this event with unbounded joy; and to 
Cromwell, for the active part he took in the matter, he says, in 
a letter, “ This deed you shall hear of at the great day, when 
all things shall be opened and made manifest.” 

He had hardly witnessed the partial success of the cause of 
reformation, when his influence over the king, and with it the 
cause which he had at heart, began to decline. He had no 
friendly feeling for those monastic institutions which the rapacity 
of Henry had marked for destruction; but he knew that their 
revenues might, as national property, be applied advantageously 
to the advancement of learning and religion, and he opposed 
their indiscriminate transfer to the greedy hands of the syco¬ 
phants of the court. This opposition gave to the more un¬ 
scrupulous of the Romanists an opportunity to recover their lost 
ground with the king, of which they were not slow to avail 
themselves. They were strong enough at least to obtain from 
parliament, in 1539, (of course through the good-will of their 
despotic master,) the act of the Six Articles, not improperly 
called the “Bloody Articles,” in spite of the determined oppo¬ 
sition of Cranmer: an opposition which he refused to withdraw 
even at the express command of the king. Latimer and Shaxton 
immediately resigned their bishoprics. One of the clauses of 
this act, relating to the marriage of priests, inflicted a severe 
blow even on the domestic happiness of Cranmer. In his last 
visit to the continent, he had taken, for his second wife, a niece 
of the celebrated divine Osiander. By continuing to cohabit 
with her, he would now, by the law of the land, be guilty of 
felony; she was therefore sent back to her friends in Germany. 

From this time till the death of Henry, in 1546, Cranmer 
could do little more than strive against a stream which not only 
thwarted his plans of further reformation, but endangered his 
personal safety; and he had to strive alone, for Latimer and 
other friends among the clergy had retired from the battle, and 
Cromwell had been removed from it by the hands of the exe¬ 
cutioner. He was continually assailed by open accusation and 
secret conspiracy. On one occasion his enemies seemed to have 
compassed his ruin, when Henry himself interposed and rescued 


THOMAS CRANMER. 


81 


him from their malice. His continued personal regard for 
Cranmer, after he had in a measure rejected him from his con¬ 
fidence, is a remarkable anomaly in the life of this extraordinary 
king; of whom, on a review of his whole character, we are 
obliged to acknowledge, that in his best days he was a heartless 
voluptuary, and that he had become, long before his death, a 
remorseless and sanguinary tyrant. It is idle to talk of the 
complaisance of the servant to his master, as a complete solution 
of the difficulty. That lie was, indeed, on some occasions sub¬ 
servient beyond the strict line of integrity, even his friends 
must confess; and for the part which he condescended to act 
in the iniquitous divorce of Anne of Cleves, no excuse can be 
found but the poor one of the general servility of the times: 
that infamous transaction had left an indelible stain of disgrace 
on the archbishop, the parliament, and the convocation. But 
Cranmer could oppose as well as comply: his conduct in the 
case of the Six Articles, and his noble interference in favour of 
Cromwell, between the tiger and his prey, would seem to have 
been sufficient to ruin the most accommodating courtier. Per¬ 
haps Henry had discovered that Cranmer had more real attach¬ 
ment to his person than any of his unscrupulous agents, and he 
may have felt pride in protecting one who, from his unsuspicious 
disposition and habitual mildness, was obviously unfit, in such 
perilous times, to protect himself. His mildness indeed was 
such, that it was commonly said, 44 Do my Lord of Canterbury 
a shrewd turn, and you make him your friend for life.” 

On the accession of Edward new commissions were issued, at 
the suggestion of Cranmer, to himself and the other bishops, by 
which they were empowered to receive again their bishoprics, 
as though they had ceased with the demise of the crown, and 
to hold them during the royal pleasure. His object of course 
was to settle at once the question of the new king’s supremacy,, 
and the proceeding was in conformity with an opinion which at 
one time he undoubtedly entertained, that there are no distinct 
orders of bishops and priests, and that the office of bishop, so 
far as it is distinguished from that of the priests, is simply of 
civil origin. The government was now directed by the friends 
of reformation, Cranmer himself being one of the Council of 
Regency; but still his course was by no means a smooth one- 
The unpopularity which the conduct of the late king had 
11 


82 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

brought on the cause was even aggravated by the proceedings 
of its avowed friends during the short reign of his son. The 
example of the Protector Somerset was followed by a crowd of 
courtiers and not a few ecclesiastics, in making reform a plea 
for the most shameless rapacity, rendered doubly hateful by the 
hypocritical pretence of religious zeal. The remonstrances of 
Cranmer were of course disregarded; but his powerful friends 
were content that, whilst they were filling their pockets, he 
should complete, if he could, the establishment of the reformed 
church. Henry had left much for the reformers to do. Some, 
•indeed, of the peculiar doctrines of Romanism had been modi¬ 
fied, and some of its superstitious observances abolished. The 
great step gained was the general permission to read the Scrip¬ 
tures ; and, though even that had been partially recalled, it was 
impossible to recall the scriptural knowledge and the spirit of 
inquiry to which it had given birth. With the assistance of 
some able divines, particularly of his friend and chaplain Rid¬ 
ley, afterwards Bishop of London, Cranmer was able to bring 
the services and discipline of the church, as well as the articles 
of faith, nearly to the state in which we now have them. In 
doing this he had to contend at once with the determined hos¬ 
tility of the Romanists, with dissensions in his own party, and 
conscientious opposition from sincere friends of the cause. In 
these difficult circumstances his conduct was marked generally 
by moderation, good judgment, and temper. But it must be 
acknowledged that he concurred in proceedings against some of 
the Romanists, especially against Gardiner, which were unfair 
and oppressive. In the composition of the New Service Book, 
as it was then generally called, and of the Articles, we know 
not what parts were the immediate work of Cranmer; but we 
have good evidence that he was the author of three of the 
Homilies, those of Salvation, of Faith, and of Good Works. 

It should be observed, that Cranmer, though he early set out 
from a principle which might be expected eventually to lead him 
to the full extent of doctrinal reformation, made his way slowly, 
and by careful study of the Scriptures, of which he left behind 
sufficient proof, to that point at which we find him in the reign 
of Edward. It is certain that during the greater part, if not 
the whole, of Henry’s reign, he agreed with the Romanists in 
the doctrine of the corporeal presence and transubstantiation. 


THOMAS CRANMER. 


83 


The death of Edward ushered in the storms which troubled 
the remainder of Cranmer’s days. All the members of the council 
affixed their signatures to the will of the young king, altering 
the order of succession in the favour of Lady Jane Grey. Cran¬ 
mer’s accession to this illegal measure, the suggestion of the 
profligate Northumberland, cannot he justified, nor did he him¬ 
self attempt to justify it. He appears weakly and with great 
reluctance, to have yielded up his better judgment to the will 
of his colleagues, and the opinion of the judges. 

Mary had not been long on the throne before Cranmer was 
committed to the Tower, attainted of high treason, brought 
forth in what seems to have been little better than a mockery 
of disputation, and then sent to Oxford, where, with Latimer 
and Ridley, he was confined in a common prison. The charge 
of high treason, which might undoubtedly have been maintained, 
was not followed up, and it was not, perhaps, the intention of 
the government at any time to act upon it: it was their wish 
that he should fall as a heretic. At Oxford he was repeatedly 
brought before commissioners delegated by the Convocation, 
and, in what were called examinations and disputations, was 
subjected to the most unworthy treatment. On the 20th of 
April, 1554, Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer, were publicly re¬ 
quired to recant, and, on their refusal, were condemned as here¬ 
tics. The commission, however, having been illegally made 
out, it was thought expedient to stay the execution till a new 
one had been obtained; which, in the case of Cranmer, was 
issued by the pope. He was consequently dragged through the 
forms of another trial and examination; summoned, while still 
a close prisoner, to appear within eighty days at Rome; and 
then, by a sort of legal fiction, not more absurd perhaps than 
some which still find favour in our own courts, declared con¬ 
tumacious for failing to appear. Finally, he was degraded, and 
delivered over to the secular power. That no insult might he 
spared him, Bonner was placed on the commission for his degra¬ 
dation, in which employment he seems to have surpassed even 
his usual brutality. 

Cranmer had been a prisoner for more than two years, during 
the whole of which his conduct appears to have been worthy of 
the high office which he had held, and the situation in which he 
was placed. Whilst he expressed contrition for his political 


84 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


offence, and was earnest to vindicate his loyalty, he maintained 
with temper and firmness those religious opinions which had 
placed him in such fearful peril. Of the change which has 
thrown a cloud over his memory, we hardly know any thing 
with certainty but the fact of his recantation. Little reliance 
can be placed on the detailed accounts of the circumstances 
which accompanied it. He was taken from his miserable cell 
in the prison to comfortable lodgings in Christchurch, where he 
is said to have been assailed with promises of pardon, and 
allured, by a treacherous show of kindness, into repeated acts 
of apostasy. In the mean while the government had decreed 
his death. On the 21st of March, 1556, he was taken from his 
prison to St. Mary’s Church, and exhibited to a crowded audience, 
on an elevated platform, in front of the pulpit. After a sermon 
from Dr. Cole, the Provost of Eton, he uttered a short and 
affecting prayer on his knees; then rising, addressed an exhor¬ 
tation to those around him; and, finally, made a full and dis¬ 
tinct avowal of his penitence and remorse for his apostasy, 
declaring, that the unworthy hand which had signed his recan¬ 
tation should be the first member that perished. Amidst the 
reproaches of his disappointed persecutors, he was hurried from 
the church to the stake, where he fulfilled his promise by holding 
forth his hand to the flames. We have undoubted testimony 
that he bore his sufferings with inflexible constancy. A specta¬ 
tor of the Romanist party says, “ If it had been either for the 
glory of God, the wealth of his country, or the testimony of the 
truth, as it was for a pernicious error, and subversion of true 
religion, I could worthily have commended the example, and 
matched it with the fame of any father of ancient time.” He 
perished in his sixty-seventh year. 

All that has been left of his writings will be found in an 
edition of “The Remains of Archbishop Cranmer,” lately pub¬ 
lished at Oxford, in four volumes 8vo. They give proof that 
he was deeply imbued with the spirit of Protestantism, and that 
his opinions were the result of reflection and study; though the 
effect of early impressions occasionally appears, as in the manner 
of his appeals to the Apocryphal books, and a submission to the 
judgment of the early fathers, in a degree barely consistent 
with his avowed principles. 

This brief memoir does not pretend to supply the reader with 


THOMAS CRANMER. 


85 


materials for examining that difficult question, the character of 
the archbishop. It is hardly necessary to refer him to such 
well-known books as Strype’s Life of Cranmer, and the recent 
works of Mr. Todd and Mr. Le Bas. 

The time, it seems, has not arrived for producing a strictly 
impartial life of this celebrated man. Yet there is doubtless a 
much nearer agreement among candid inquirers, whether mem¬ 
bers of the Church of England or Homan Catholics, than the 
language of those who have told their thoughts to the public 
might lead us to expect. Those who are cool enough to under¬ 
stand that the credit and truth of their respective creeds are no 
way interested in the matter, will probably allow, that the 
course of reform which Cranmer directed was justified to him¬ 
self by his private convictions; and that his motive was a desire 
to establish what he really believed to be the truth. Beyond 
this they will acknowledge that there is room for difference of 
opinion. Some will see, in the errors of his life, only human 
frailty, not irreconcileable with a general singleness of purpose; 
occasional deviations from the habitual courage of a confirmed 
Christian. Others may honestly, and not uncharitably, suspect, 
that the habits of a court, and constant engagement in official 
business, may have somewhat marred the simplicity of his 
character, weakened the practical influence of religious belief, 
and caused him, whilst labouring for the improvement of others, 
to neglect his own; and hence they may account for his un¬ 
steadfastness in times of trial. 

In addition to the works already mentioned, we may name as 
easily accessible, among Protestant authorities, Burnet’s History 
of the Reformation ; among Roman Catholic, Lingard’s History 
of England. Collier, in his Ecclesiastical History, stands, per¬ 
haps, more nearly on neutral ground, but can hardly be cited 
as an impartial historian. Though a Protestant, in his hatred 
and dread of all innovators, and especially of the Puritans, he 
seems ready to take refuge even with popery; and examines 
always with jealousy, sometimes with malignity, the motives 
and conduct of reformers, from his first notice of Wiclif to the 
close of his history. 


H 


86 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


HUGH LATIMER. 



ON" of an honest yeoman at Thurcostan, in 
Leicestershire, England, this able and eminent 
prelate was born about the year 1470. At 
the age of four years, he gave so great 
proofs of a ready apprehension, that his 
parents, having no other son, resolved to edu¬ 
cate him for a learned profession; and at the 
age of fourteen, he went to the University of. 
Cambridge, where he applied himself chiefly to 
the theological studies of those times. On tak¬ 
ing priest’s orders, he distinguished himself by his 
zeal for the tenets of Bopery, and his invectives 
against the principles of the reformers ; but having 
subsequently embraced the Protestant faith, princi¬ 
pally through the instructions of Thomas Bilney, a 
devout clergyman, he became equally ardent in pro¬ 
moting the progress of the reformed doctrines. His eminence 
as a preacher, and the exemplary life which he led with his 
friend Bilney, had a very considerable influence in spreading 
the new opinions; and the exertions of the opposite party were 
called forth to counteract his growing popularity. 

Doctor West, Bishop of Ely, was at length constrained to 
exercise his authority as diocesan; but, being a man of great 
moderation, he contented himself with preaching against the 
heretics, and forbidding Latimer to preach in the University. 
Doctor Barnes, however, prior of the Augustine friars, licensed 
Latimer to preach in the church of his priory, which, like most 
monastic establishments, was exempt from episcopal jurisdiction; 
and here, in spite of all the machinations of his adversaries, he 
continued for three years to address the most crowded audiences 
with distinguished success and applause. Even the Bishop of 


HUGH LATIMER. 


87 


Ely was frequently observed among his hearers, and candidly 
acknowledged his excellence as a preacher. 

About this time King Henry VIII., desirous to conciliate 
the pope, enjoined Wolsey to put the law in execution against 
heretics, a mode of proving one’s orthodoxy quite in vogue in 
that age of the world, and one which was successfully practised 
by Henry’s cotemporary and rival, Francis I. of France. Ac¬ 
cordingly, among others, Latimer was summoned to answer for 
his avowed sentiments. According to some accounts, he con¬ 
sented to subscribe the articles which were proposed to him ; but 
others affirm that Wolsey was so pleased with his answers, that 
he dismissed him with a very gentle admonition. 

Latimer now even began to be in favour at the court of the 
capricious tyrant who then ruled England, and having preached 
before the king at Windsor, was noticed with more than usual 
affability. This unlooked-for graciousness, however, was far 
from seducing the sturdy reformer from his principles. He was 
none the less resolute in his adherence to the cause of the 
reformed religion. He had even the courage to write a letter 
to the king, against a proclamation which had been issued for 
prohibiting the use of the Bible in the English language. 

Though his remonstrance, which was entirely characteristic, 
being marked with his usual openness and sincerity, produced 
no effect at the time, yet the king, who had before been pleased 
with Latimer’s plain and simple manner of address, or who had 
other ends to serve by his aid, received it with the utmost con¬ 
descension. He was afterwards still more firmly established in 
the royal favour, by the exertions which he made, in full con¬ 
sistency with his principles, to support the plea of the king’s 
supremacy. 

By the friendship of Hr. Butts, the king’s physician, and of 
Cromwell, the prime minister, both favourers of the reformation, 
Latimer was now presented to the living of West Kingston, 
Wiltshire; and, contrary to the advice of his friends, he resigned 
all attendance at court, to devote himself to the duties of his 
parish. He also extended his labours with great diligence into 
the adjoining parts of the country, wherever he saw there was 
a deficiency of pastoral instruction, and was rising rapidly in 
the estimation of all good men in those districts, when his 
enemies drew up a charge of heresy against him, and procured 


88 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


a citation for his appearance before Stokesley, Bishop of London. 
But this step, which might naturally have been considered the 
harbinger of his ruin, only furthered his promotion; for while 
he was greatly harassed in the archiepiscopal court, by frequent 
examinations, and crafty interrogatories, and urgent injunctions 
to subscribe articles totally abhorrent to his conscience, the king, 
having been privately informed of the treatment to which he. 
was subjected, interposed his authority and stopped all proceed¬ 
ings against him. 

Soon after these troubles he was promoted to the see’of Wor¬ 
cester, through the influence of his steady patrons, Cromwell 
and Butts. In the high and responsible office of bishop, Lati¬ 
mer applied himself to the faithful discharge of his duties, and 
proceeded with as much zeal as the state of things would admit, 
in correcting the tendency of popish superstitions. To under¬ 
stand the real difficulties in which a conscientious minister of 
religion was placed in the dawning hours of the reformation, it is 
necessary to read with attention some of the accounts of cotem¬ 
porary writers, or to make one’s self familiar with the graphic 
narratives of the quaint old martyrologist, Fox, who brings 
before us, with wonderful vividness, the rough character of the 
times. Not only iron determination and unflinching courage, 
but what was much rarer, a spirit of wisdom, meekness, and 
moderation, became all-important for the purpose of effecting 
any real good. This spirit Latimer possessed in an eminent 
degree, and by its exercise became eminently useful. 

In 1536, Bishop Latimer attended the session of parliament 
and convocation, in which the Protestant influence so far pre¬ 
vailed, as to abolish four out of the seven sacraments, and to 
authorize the translation of the Bible into English. 

Returning to his bishopric, and shunning all concern in state 
affairs, he occupied himself entirely in the silent discharge of 
his pastoral duties, till the year 1539, when the act of the Six 
Articles was passed, which reduced him to the necessity of sur¬ 
rendering his office or his conscience. Instantly he resigned 
his bishopric, and retired to a private situation in the country; 
but being obliged to repair to London, in consequence of a 
severe bruise, which required better medical assistance than his 
neighbourhood could supply, he was soon discovered by Gar¬ 
diner’s emissaries, and, upon an allegation of having spoken 


HtJaH LATIMER. 


89 


against the Six Articles, was committed to the Tower, where he 
suffered a severe imprisonment during the six remaining years 
of Henry’s reign. 

Immediately after the accession of Edward VI. he recovered 
his liberty, and found his old friends again in power, but he 
declined all their proposals to reinstate him in his diocese, and 
took up his residence with Cranmer at Lambeth. Here he oc¬ 
cupied himself chiefly in redressing the grievances of poor 
persons, who flocked to him in great numbers. He also assisted 
at this time in preparing the first part of the English Homilies. 
He seldom failed, however, to appear in the pulpit on Sundays; 
and besides preaching the Lent sermons before the king, fre¬ 
quently officiated at St. Paul’s Cross, and the different churches 
of the metropolis. 

After the death of Somerset, Latimer withdrew from London, 
and made use of the king’s license as a general preacher, 
wherever his services appeared to be required. But, upon the 
restoration of popery at the commencement of Mary’s reign, he 
was once more silenced, together with all the Protestant 
preachers, and in a short time summoned to London before the 
ecclesiastical council. He had long been persuaded that, sooner 
or later, he should be called to answer with his life for the 
cause which he had espoused; and particularly, that, in the eye 
qf Bishop Grardiner, now prime minister, he was marked for 
proscription. Though forewarned of the designs meditated 
against him, and of the approach of the messenger with the cita¬ 
tion from court, he was so far from availing himself of the op¬ 
portunity to escape, (which, it is conjectured, would have been 
more agreeable to his enemies than his appearance,) that he 
instantly made ready to accompany the officer, and addressed 
him in language expressive of the utmost readiness to attend 
his orders. The messenger, however, acquainted him that he 
had no authority to seize his person; and merely delivering the 
citation, took his departure without delay. 

Latimer prepared to obey the summons, proceeded straight 
to the metropolis, and, on the day of his arrival, presented 
himself to the council, by whom he was loaded with reproaches, 
and committed to the Tower. Notwithstanding the infirmities 
of his advanced age, and the severe treatment which he expe¬ 
rienced, he bore his confinement with the utmost patience, and 
12 h 2 


90 


LIVES OP EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


even frequently indulged in his habitual jocularity. Being de¬ 
nied the benefit of a fire, even in the midst of winter, he said 
one day to the under-keeper, “ that if he did not look better to 
him, perchance he should deceive him.” The lieutenant, upon 
being informed of these expressions, became apprehensive of 
some intention on the part of his prisoner to effect his escape; 
and, coming to him in person, required an explanation of his 
words. “ Yea, master lieutenant,” said Latimer, “ for you look, 
I think, that I should burn ; but, except you let me have some 
fire, I am like to deceive your expectation, for I am like to 
starve for cold.” 

In 1554, after half a year’s imprisonment, he was conveyed 
to Oxford, together with Cranmer and Ridley, for the purpose 
of holding a public disputation with the most eminent Popish 
divines. At these conferences, which were conducted in a most 
disorderly manner, it is observable that, though Latimer avowed 
his intention to shun argument, as of no avail, and to content 
himself with offering a plain account of his faith, he nevertheless 
managed the controversy with more ability and consistency 
than his colleagues, who attempted to answer the citations from 
the fathers in the quibbling style of the schoolmen, while the 
other adhered to the pure strain of Scripture language, and dis¬ 
claimed all authority which did not coincide with its plain import. 
“ Then you are not of St. Chrysostom’s faith, nor of St. Augus¬ 
tine’s faith?” said his opponents. “I have said,” replied thd 
bishop, “ when they say well, and bring Scripture for them, I 
am of their faith; and farther Augustine requireth not to be 
believed.” 

After the termination of the disputations, sentence was pro¬ 
nounced against the three Protestant prelates as heretics; but 
they remained in custody till the month of September in the 
following year, when commissioners were appointed to examine 
them a second time, and to afford them an opportunity of retract¬ 
ing the sentiments which they had formerly avowed. The aged 
bishop, adhering resolutely to his confession, was led to the stake, 
along with his fellow-prisoner Ridley, on the 16th of October, 
1555, where he met the painful death of his martyrdom with 
the utmost composure and fortitude. “ Mr. Latimer very quietly 
suffered his keeper to pull off his hose and his other array, which to 
look into was very simple; and being stripped into his shroud, he 


HUGH LATIMER. 


91 


seemed as comely a person to them that were there present, as one 
should lightly see; and whereas in his clothes he appeared a with¬ 
ered and crooked, silly old man, he now stood bold upright, as 
comely a father as one might lightly behold.” As the fagots 
were kindling, he said to his companion in suffering, “Be of 
good comfort, Mr. Ridley, and play the man; we shall this day 
light such a candle by God’s grace in England, as, I trust, shall 
never be put out, and as the flame embraced his body, he re¬ 
peatedly cried with a firm voice, « 0 Father of Heaven, receive 
my soul!” and expired in a short time, without any appearance 
of extreme agony. 

The general character of this venerable person, says one of 
his biographers, to whom we are indebted for the particulars of 
the foregoing sketch of his life, is most honourable to the cause 
which he embraced, and presents a worthy pattern to every 
Christian minister. He was always more attentive to the pur¬ 
suit of useful knowledge than of curious literature; and, even 
in his advanced years, was regularly occupied with his studies 
many hours before sunrise, both in winter and summer. He 
avoided all interference in secular or political concerns, and 
devoted himself wholly to the concerns of his office as a Chris¬ 
tian pastor. He was a celebrated and popular preacher in his 
time; and his manner of address in the pulpit is described as 
having been remarkably earnest and impressive; but his sermons 
which are extant, though frequently marked by the most affect¬ 
ing simplicity, abound too much in the low familiarity, and even 
studied drollery, which suited the taste of that age, and which 
had their origin, with too many other deviations from apostolic 
example, in the most corrupted church and darkest periods of 
Christendom. 


92 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


NICHOLAS RIDLEY. 



ITTLE is known of Ridley’s birth or parent¬ 
age. His earliest instructions in spiritual mat¬ 
ters were received from an uncle who was a 
clergyman. He was afterwards placed at the 
school of Newcastle on Tyne; then he was 
removed to Pembroke Hall, in Cambridge, 
and still later to the University of Louvain. 
Meanwhile, (1522,) he had been made Bachelor 
of Arts, and, two years later, Master of Arts. He 
studied carefully and critically the learned lan¬ 
guages, so that, on returning to his college, in 1529, 
he possessed all the qualifications which were then 
esteemed as the perfection of pulpit argument and elo¬ 
quence. His success, as a preacher, was great. In 
1533, he became senior proctor, and, in the following 
year, university orator and chaplain. He had already 
begun to question some of the popish tenets; and, when King 
Henry VIII. commenced his reform of the ecclesiastical sys¬ 
tem, Ridley threw his whole influence to the monarch’s favour. 
In 1538, Cranmer gave him the vicarage of Herne in Kent; 
but, in the following year, he preached publicly against the Six 
Articles. After this he became successively king’s chaplain, 
prebendary of Canterbury, and officer in the church of West¬ 
minster. Meantime, he was accused of having impugned the 
law of the Six Articles, and of directing that the Te Deum 
should be sung in English in his church at Herne. The 
charges being brought before the privy council, were referred 
by the king to Cranmer, who arrested the whole proceedings. 
Ridley then turned his attention to the doctrine of transub- 
stantiation, and, it is said, occupied a year of close retirement 
in reading and reflecting on it. The result was his renuncia- 


NICHOLAS RIDLEY. 


93 


tion of a belief in the actual presence; and it appears that, 
through his influence, Cranmer also renounced it. 

After the death of King Henry, Ridley was appointed by 
Edward YI. (September, 1547) to the see of Rochester. In 
the following year he assisted in the compilation of the Book 
of Common Prayer, and at the same tinle directed his efforts 
to the suppression of the Anabaptists. In this latter work, he 
gave way to the cruel spirit of the age in consenting to the 
burning of Joan of Kent and a foreigner named Paris—one 
for denying the humanity, the other the divinity of Christ. 
In the same year, he succeeded Bonner, Bishop of London; 
and his conduct toward that fallen prelate was delicate and ho¬ 
nourable. Ridley preserved his goods from injury, allowed him 
to move' about at liberty, paid the sums still due to Bonner’s 
servants for livery and wages, and admitted his mother and sis¬ 
ter to the use of their former mansion and the archbishop’s 
own table. He now thoroughly embraced the Protestant cause, 
and devoted himself zealously to its promotion. He abolished 
the church altars, and, together with Cranmer, composed a code 
of faith in forty-two articles, which was sanctioned by the king 
in council and published under royal authority. About the 
same time Ridley visited the Princess (afterwards queen) Mary, 
at Hunsdon house. The interview between the champion of 
reform and the future champion of bigotry, is worthy of particu¬ 
lar narration. 

“Her highness received him in the presence chamber, 
thanked him for his civility, and entertained him with very 
pleasant discourse for a quarter of an hour; said she remem¬ 
bered him at court when chaplain to her father, and mentioned 
particularly a sermon of his before her father at the marriage 
of Lady Clinton, that now is, to Sir Anthony Browne; and 
then, leaving the presence chamber, she dismissed him to dine 
with her servants. After dinner she sent for him again, when 
the bishop in conversation told her that he did not only come 
to pay his duty to her grace by waiting on her, but, further, to 
offer his service to preach before her the next Sunday, if she 
would be pleased to admit him. Her countenance changed at 
this, and she continued for some time silent. At last she said, 

<1 pray you, my lord, make the answer to this yourself. The 
bishop proceeding to tell her that his office and duty obliged 


94 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


him to make this offer, she again desired him to make the an¬ 
swer to it himself, for that he could not but know what it would 
be; yet, if the answer must come from her, she told him that 
the doors of the parish church should be open for him if he 
came, and that he might preach if he pleased; but that neither 
would she hear him', nor allow any of her servants to do it. 

“ ‘Madam,’ said the bishop, ‘I trust you will not refuse 
God’s word.’ «I cannot tell,’ said she, ‘ what you call God’s 
word. That is not God’s word now that was God’s word in 
my father’s days.-’ The bishop observed that God’s word was 
all one at all times; but had been better understood and prac¬ 
tised in some ages than others: upon which she could contain 
no longer, but told him—* You durst not for your ears have 
preached that in my father’s days that now you do;’ and then, 
to show how able she was in this controversy, she added—‘ As 
for your new books, I thank God I never read any of them; 
I never did, and never will.’ She then broke out into many 
bitter expressions against the form of religion at present esta¬ 
blished, and against the government of the realm and the laws 
made in her brother’s minority, which she said she was not 
bound to obey till the king came of perfect age, and when he 
was so, she would obey them; and then asked the bishop if he 
was one of the council, and, on his answering No, «You might 
well enough,’ said she, ‘as the council goes now-a-days ;’ and 
parted from him with these words : ‘ My Lord, for your civility 
in coming to see me, I thank you; but for your offer to preach 
before me, I thank you not a whit.’ After this, the bishop was 
conducted to the room where he had dined, where Sir Thomas 
Wharton gave him a glass of wine, which when he had drank, 
he seemed confounded, and said, ‘ Surely I have done amiss 
and, being asked how, he reproached himself for having drank 
in that place where God’s word had been refused; < whereas,’ 
said he, < if I had remembered my duty, I ought to have de¬ 
parted immediately, and to have shaken the dust from my feet 
as a testimony against this house.’ ” 

The untimely death of Edward VI. was a sad reverse in the 
life of Ridley. The bishop used his utmost power in the sup¬ 
port of Lady Jane Grey; so that, tainted as he was with the 
darkest stains of heresy and rebellion, he had little mercy to 
expect at the accession of Mary. He made an effort for his 


NICHOLAS RIDLEY. 


95 


life by tendering bis homage to her and craving mercy. The 
queen sent him to the Tower. Here, during eight months, he 
was strenuously urged to retract his errors and trust to the 
tender mercies of the Romish creed. Throughout the whole 
of that fearful period he remained firm, and, on the 1st of Oc¬ 
tober, 1555, he was brought to trial for heresy. His sentence 
was death at the stake ; and, on the 15th of the same month, 
he and Latimer underwent the penalty with Christian fortitude. 
The fire which consumed these two great men was the signal 
for the increase of those cruelties which, during the reign of 
Mary, were poured out without mixture upon the Protestants, 
and of the sight of which it was happy to be deprived by an 
early death. 


96 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ISABELLA OF CASTILE. 



SABELLA, Queen of Castile and Arragon, was 
born at Madrigal, April 23, 1451. Her pa¬ 
rents were John II. of Castile, who died when 
she was four years old, and Isabella of Portu¬ 
gal. At her father’s death she was removed 
by her mother to the town of Arevalo, where, 
during a period of several years, she lived re¬ 
tired, imbibing those sentiments of piety and 
fervent devotion for which she was afterwards 
remarkable. When she had reached the age of 
fourteen, many of the neighbouring princes solicited 
her hand in marriage. Of these the most powerful 
were Don Carlos of Arragon, Alphonso of Portugal, 
and the Grand-master of Calatrava. To the latter, a 
vicious and dissolute man, she was actually affianced ; 
but he died, on the eve of marriage, not without strong 
suspicions of poison. A civil war ensued, during which Prince 
Alphonso died; the insurgents were disconcerted, and finally the 
crown of Castile was offered to Isabella. She declined it, an 
act which led to a reconciliation of the contending factions, and 
a treaty which included among its articles a stipulation that 
Isabella should not be induced to marry against her will. Im¬ 
mediately after, (September 9, 1468,) an interview took place 
between the princess and her brother, Henry of Castile, in which, 
amid much pomp, he acknowledged her as his rightful heir, and 
his nobles kissed her hand in .token of homage. A cortes of 
the nation approved this act, although it should be observed 
that the rightful heir was Joanna, John’s daughter; nor is it 
certain that the weak monarch intended to fulfil the engagement 
into which he entered with his sister. 

Isabella’s hand was now sought by several distinguished 
princes; among others, a son of Edward IY. of England, and a 


ISABELLA OF CASTILE. 


97 

brother of the French monarch. But her inclinations leaned 
toward Ferdinand of Arragon, who at an earlier period had been 
one of her suitors. When her feelings on this point became 
generally known, many obstructions were thrown in the way by 
the King of Portugal, and those who supported Joanna. Isabella 
disregarded the efforts of her opponents, and on the 7th of Janu¬ 
ary, 1469, marriage articles were signed between her and Fer¬ 
dinand. Besides securing the foreign and domestic interests of 
both nations, these articles stipulated that each sovereign should 
be independent in his or her kingdom, and that both should 
unite in the war against the Moors. The marriage was consum¬ 
mated and made public on the 19th of October. 

This marriage was the cause of new disturbances. Henry 
declared that his sister had violated the treaty constituting her 
his heir ; Joanna was affianced to the rejected suitor of Isabella, 
Guienne of France, and declared heir apparent; while the nobles 
went over in great numbers to Henry’s cause. A tedious war 
ensued, during which Guienne died. Losses were sustained on both 
sides, and the party of Isabella, principally on account of her 
wise conduct, daily gained strength. At length an amicable 
interview took place between Henry and Isabella; but the con¬ 
sequent calm was of short duration. Another war of checkered 
success occurred, during which Henry died, and Ferdinand was 
reduced to such pecuniary embarrassment as to be obliged to 
pawn his robes. But by Henry’s death the crown devolved on 
Isabella, or at least was claimed by her. She demanded to be 
publicly proclaimed; and on the 13th of December, 1474, this 
ceremony took place amid much pomp. A disagreeable dispute 
ensuing, concerning the relative authority of Isabella and her 
husband, it was settled by the Cardinal of Spain and the Bishop 
of Toledo, on the basis of the marriage contract. The domestic 
and religious affairs of Castile were to be regulated principally 
by Isabella; but the common seal and the national coin were to 
bear the images of both sovereigns, and both were to administer 
justice. 

Scarcely had these arrangements been effected, when the 
civil war was renewed. Several of the most powerful nobles 
supported Joanna; for her, Alphonso V. of Portugal declared. 
That monarch, after demanding of Ferdinand and Isabella a 
resignation of their crown, invaded Castile with twenty-one 
13 I 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


88 

thousand men. In May, 1475, he married Joanna, and then 
marched against his rivals. Fortunately for the latter, his 
movements were dilatory; Ferdinand seized each moment to 
muster his forces; and Isabella frequently spent the whole night 
in dictating letters, in riding from post to post, or in attending 
to the wants of her troops. By their exertions, forty-two thou¬ 
sand men were raised, which, though but partially disciplined, 
were led against the enemy. At first sight of the Portuguese 
they made a disorderly retreat; and Castile was saved only 
because Alphonso neglected to pursue. But Alphonso was kept 
inactive at Toro by the danger then threatening Portugal; and 
Isabella, by devoting one-half of the church plate to the state, 
was enabled to raise another army. At a great battle near Toro, 
Alphonso was defeated ; Isabella offered public thanksgivings to 
God; and soon after the whole kingdom submitted to the two sove¬ 
reigns. Alphonso retired to his own country, and Joanna to a 
monastery. In January, 1479, the crown of Arragon devolved 
on Ferdinand and Isabella by the dearth of Ferdinand’s father; 
and from this event is dated the rise of that monarchy which for 
a time was the most splendid and powerful in Europe. 

Isabella now directed her attention to the domestic affairs of 
her extended realm. To arrest the anarchy which reigned 
among the nobles, she directed against them that terrible engine 
of reform, the Holy Brotherhood. The opposition of the aris¬ 
tocracy was great; but Isabella persevered in her schemes of 
reform; and when riots ensued, she quelled them by her personal 
courage and conduct. She executed justice impartially, and 
terminated the feuds which had long existed between her higher 
vassals. Order was re-established, the laws were revised, restric¬ 
tions were imposed upon the clergy, trade was revived, and 
above all, the crown was strengthened by every available means. 
These politic and benevolent schemes were succeeded by one 
which has left a stain upon Isabella’s reputation. She revived 
the Inquisition throughout her kingdom, directing its fearful 
machinery against the Jews. To the crime of amassing wealth 
by untiring industry, these despised sectaries added the unpar¬ 
donable one of adhering to the religion of their fathers. At the 
time of Isabella’s accession there was a great cry against them, it 
being believed even by many pious men that they were accursed 
of God, and deserved the greatest punishments both here and 


ISABELLA OF CASTILE. 


99 


hereafter. None were more likely to adopt such an opinion than 
Isabella, who, to great zeal for the church, added a serious, thought¬ 
ful disposition, not altogether free from melancholy. Her feelings 
and her passions were artfully inflamed against heresy, by the 
Dominican Torquemada; and scarcely had she mounted the 
throne, when, under the influence of that bad man, the work of 
death began. The most arbitrary and silly circumstances were 
considered evidences of Judaism ; the rage of the inquisitors 
reached such a pitch that the pope himself interfered. Thou¬ 
sands fled from the kingdom, leaving the inheritance obtained 
by years of toil to their persecutors ; the suspected were tortured 
to death if they did not confess themselves Jews, and burnt if 
torture extorted confession. During the eighteen years of Tor- 
quemada’s ministry, more than ten thousand were burned, and 
one hundred thousand otherwise punished. But while we shud¬ 
der at such details, and at the system which could furnish 
matter for them, let us not forget that the zeal of the persecutors, 
and especially of Isabella, was the legitimate offspring of that bad 
age, and the result of sincere, though mistaken belief. 

During the persecution of the Jews, the war with the Spanish 
Arabs broke out. For the expulsion of these people from the 
Peninsula, Ferdinand and Isabella had been long preparing; and 
the attack of the Moors upon Zahara, in 1481, afforded a pretext 
for beginning. Alhama was attacked by some Spanish soldiers, 
and after a hard struggle was reduced. The Moorish king of 
Grenada laid siege to it with the best part of his army ; the gar¬ 
rison were reduced to extremity; but the Moors were compelled 
to raise the siege at the approach of the Duke of Medina Sidonia. 
At this time Ferdinand and Isabella were at Cordova, raising 
means to prosecute the war; but their joy at hearing that the 
siege had been raised, was interrupted by information that the 
Moors had again laid siege to it. Ferdinand was for abandon¬ 
ing it to the result; but Isabella induced him to advance to its 
relief. Again the Moors retired; and Ferdinand entered Alhama 
on the 14th of May. Loja was next besieged, but Ferdinand 
could not capture it; nor is it probable that the armies of Spain, 
for a long time at least, would have been very successful, had 
not a revolt against the Moorish king Boabdil favoured their 
efforts. The war continued with various success until January 
2, 1492, when the surrender of Grenada secured the triumph of 



100 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


the Spanish sovereigns, and broke forever the Moslem dominion 
in Spain. To this result, Isabella had contributed perhaps as 
much as her husband. She urged the somewhat flagging zeal of 
Ferdinand, she rallied the nobles round him, she rewarded her 
faithful followers, she frequently appeared personally in the camp. 
Nor was it forgotten that the war was one undertaken for the 
honour of the church ; fasts were often held ; the soldiers were 
inspired by the assurance that they were engaged in a crusade; 
and after every great victory a Te Deum was sung in the churches. 
When money failed, the queen pawned her jewelry; and during 
the obstinate sieges of Baza and Grenada, she rode from one part 
of the camp to the other, exhorting the soldiers to duty. 

It is pleasing to turn from the record of blood andjnisery, in 
which some of the best of persons are often obliged to take part, 
to a contemplation of affairs which tend to the good of the 
human race. While the Moorish war was in progress, a solitary 
navigator visited the court of Spain, of the result of whose 
labours, millions will in all time reap the advantages, when the 
Moorish war and its consequences will be remembered only as a 
fact in history or a ground-work of romance. It w T as Columbus. 
With the details of that great man’s sufferings, his perseverance, 
his voyages, and his triumphs, the life of Isabella has nothing 
to do, except so far as she encouraged his undertakings. There 
is little doubt that but for her, he would have abandoned his 
application to the Spanish court; and the zeal with which she 
at length entered into his views, and even offered to pawn her 
jewels in order to raise funds, deserves our commendation. 
The result is known. He crossed the ocean in safety, he dis¬ 
covered a new continent, he gave a new world to Castile and 
Arragon ; for enabling him to do so, the world is indebted to Isa¬ 
bella. Her schemes for the conversion of the Indians, if not suc¬ 
cessful, were sincere; and the manner in which she disposed of 
her unexpectedly acquired wealth, is in general worthy of appro¬ 
bation. 

Iabellawasa great collector of books ; and'she endowed seve¬ 
ral monasteries with considerable libraries. She evinced great 
solicitude in the education of her children ; and her attention to 
their religious tuition was strict even to bigotry. Herself a 
scholar, she endeavoured to spread knowledge among the royal 
family; nor were the children of the nobles exempted from her 


ISABELLA OF CASTILE. 


101 


p ,w ' She filled the schools with learned men, and caused arts, 
sciences and literature to flourish throughout her dominions. 
Many of these labours were undertaken when the kingdom was 
threatened with war, or, still later, when the death of her son and 
of the Princess Isabella, had thrown a shade of melancholy over 
her declining years. When the Cardinal Ximenes became her 
confessor, he induced her to unite with him in reforming the 
scandalous depravity of the monasteries—a work in which the 
queen engaged with her usual religious zeal. This caused great 
excitement among the people; and the Franciscan general at 
Rome hastened to Spain in order to stop the proposed reform. 
After an unsatisfactory interview with the queen he returned to 
Italy ; and persuaded the pope to suspend the work of reforma¬ 
tion. This lasted for but a season ; the firmness of Ximenes 
and the zeal of Isabella triumphed over every obstacle ; and the 
pope finally acquiesced in their work. 

In addition to the calamities of war, and the domestic sorrows 
already mentioned, Isabella experienced the distress of beholding 
her daughter in a condition of hopeless insanity. Yet so faith¬ 
fully did she attend to this unfortunate child, that her own health 
became shattered, and she was saved from death only by her 
fortitude of mind. Yet she still found time to assist her husband 
even in his wars ; and during the siege of Salsas, which occurred 
while she lay sick, she made many exertions to raise funds and 
troops in order to reduce the place. She still assisted Ximenes 
in his projects of reform; and when an invasion of Spain by 
France was rumoured, she roused her powers, then wasting 
under sorrow and sickness, to inspire her people once more with 
national ardour. But at this time (1503) the feeble condition of 
her health induced the cortes to request that she would make 
provision for the succession, in case her daughter should be inca¬ 
pacitated. This intimation roused her for a while; but in the 
early part of 1504, she received information of the disgraceful 
scenes which had lately taken place between the princess and 
her husband. The mortification brought on a fever; and this 
soon increased to an alarming extent. “ Her whole system,” 
wrote her attendant, Martyr, “is pervaded by a consuming 
fever. She loathes food of every kind, and is tormented with 
incessant thirst, while the disorder has all the appearance of 
terminating in dropsy.” The nation was filled with gloom, and 


102 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


the churches were hourly crowded with suppliants, praying that 
her life might be spared. On the 12th of October, 1504, she 
dictated her testament. She directed that her remains should 
be deposited in the Franciscan monastery of Santa Isabella, in 
the Alhambra; “but,” she continues, “should the king my lord 
prefer a sepulchre in some other place, then my will is that my 
body be there transported, and laid by his side; that the union 
we have enjoyed in this 'world, and through the mercy of God 
may hope again for our souls in heaven, may be represented by 
our bodies in the earth.” Joanna was appointed “queen pro¬ 
prietor” of her kingdom, and Ferdinand, regent. Many other 
public and personal matters were disposed of in this remarkable 
instrument. On the 26th of November, 1504, after receiving 
the sacraments, the Queen of Castile gently expired, in the fifty- 
fourth year of her age. Her character as a Christian is thus 
given by her biographer, Mr. Prescott: 

“But the principle, which gave a peculiar colouring to every 
feature of Isabella’s mind, was piety. It shone forth from the 
very depths of her soul with a heavenly radiance, which illu¬ 
minated her whole character. Fortunately her earliest years 
had been passed in the rugged school of adversity, under the 
eye of a mother, who implanted in her serious mind such 
strong principles of religion as nothing in after life had power 
to shake. At an early age, in the flower of youth and beauty, 
she was introduced to her brother’s court; but its blandish¬ 
ments, so dazzling to a young imagination, had no power over 
hers, for she was surrounded by a moral atmosphere of purity, 

‘ Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt.’ 

Such was the decorum of her manners, that, though encom¬ 
passed by false friends and open enemies, not the slightest re¬ 
proach was breathed on her fair name in this corrupt and calum¬ 
nious court. 

“ She gave a liberal portion of her time to private devotions, 
as well as to the public exercises of religion. She expended 
large sums in useful charities, especially in the erection of hos¬ 
pitals and churches, and the more doubtful endowments of mo¬ 
nasteries. Her piety was strikingly exhibited in that unfeigned 
humility, which, although the very essence of our faith, is so 
rarely found, and most rarely in those whose great powers and 


ISABELLA OF CASTILE. 


103 


exalted stations seem to raise them above the level of ordinary 
mortals. A remarkable illustration of this is afforded in the 
queen’s correspondence with Talavera, in which her meek and 
docile spirit is strikingly contrasted with the Puritanical intole¬ 
rance of her confessor. Yet Talavera, as we have seen, was 
sincere and benevolent at heart. Unfortunately the royal con¬ 
science was at times committed to very different keeping, and 
that humility which, as we have repeatedly had occasion to no¬ 
tice, made her defer so reverentially to her ghostly advisers, 
led, under the fanatic Torquemada, the confessor of her early 
youth, to those deep blemishes on her administration, the esta¬ 
blishment of the Inquisition and the exile of the Jews.” 

“ Isabella’s actions, indeed, were habitually based on princi¬ 
ple. Whatever errors of judgment be imputed to- her, she 
most anxiously sought, in all situations, to discern and dis¬ 
charge her duty. Faithful in the dispensation of justice, no 
bribe was large enough to ward off the execution of the law; 
no motive, not even conjugal affection, could induce her to 
make an unsuitable appointment to public office; no reverence 
for the ministers of religion could lead her to wink at their 
. misconduct; nor could the deference she entertained for the 
head of the church, allow her to tolerate his encroachments on 
the rights of her crown. She seemed to consider herself espe¬ 
cially bound to preserve entire the peculiar claims and privi¬ 
leges of Castile, after its union, under the same sovereign, with 
Arragon. And although < while her own will was law,’ says 
Peter Martyr, ‘ she governed in such a manner that it might 
appear the joint action of both Ferdinand and herself,’ yet she 
was careful never to surrender into his hands one of those pre¬ 
rogatives which belonged to her as queen proprietor of the 
kingdom.” 


104 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ADMIRAL COLIGNI. 



ASPARD DE COLIGNI, Admiral of France, 
was born in 1516, at Chatillon-sur-Loire. Of 
his early life we know little. His first ap¬ 
pearance in public affairs was amid the stormy 
scenes attending the uprooting of old opinions 
and old prejudices, and the sudden dawning 
of truth upon a nation adverse to its reception. 
Coligni distinguished himself under Francis I. 
at the battle, of Cerisoles, and still later in the 
wars of Henry II. That monarch made him 
colonel-general of the French infantry, and in 
1552, Admiral of France. His valour and strict 
discipline were exhibited in his heroic defence of 
St. Quentin, at the storming of which he was taken 
prisoner. 

At the death of Henry II., Catherine de Medici be¬ 
came regent; and her rigorous acts against the Protestants 
soon caused them to rise in arms, Coligni and the Prince of 
Cond6 were chosen leaders. The latter was ambitious, enter¬ 
prising, and more active than his colleague ; but the prudence 
and fertile mind of Coligni fitted him to be the leader of a 
great party. Although often unfortunate in battle, he was 
skilful in remedying heavy losses, and was more to be feared 
after a defeat than his. enemies after a victory. In addition to 
these qualities, he possessed virtues which endeared him to the 
Protestants, and has caused his name to be revered as that of 
a martyr in the cause of civil and religious liberty. His per¬ 
sonal influence was so powerful in strengthening his party that 
the Catholics, headed by the Guises, began to tremble for the 
ascendency. 

In 1562 occurred at Dreux the first battle between the 


ADMIRAL COLIGNI. 


105 


Huguenots and the Catholics. The latter were victorious, but 
the admiral saved his army. The civil war continued with va¬ 
rious success until the conclusion of a partial truce, during 
which the Protestant leaders were invited to court and treated 
with seeming cordiality. Coligni was not deceived. He un¬ 
derstood the queen’s character, and he formed the design of 
founding in the new world an asylum for his oppressed coun¬ 
trymen. It was in furtherance of this design that the expedi¬ 
tion of John Ribaud sailed in 1562. It met with hut partial 
success, and was succeeded by Laudonniere’s expedition, also at 
the admiral’s expense. The men of this expedition were mas¬ 
sacred and gibbeted by the Spanish Catholics of Florida, an 
event which frustrated Coligni’s hopes, and embittered more 
deeply the feelings of parties in the mother country. 

In 1567, the civil war recommenced with increased fury; 
and again Coligni and Cond6 were chosen leaders of the 
Huguenots. They fought a battle with the Constable Mont¬ 
morency at St. Denis, and another in which Cond£ fell at 
Jarnac. Coligni now became sole leader. He was beaten at 
Moncontour. Both parties were wearied and discouraged, and 
in 1570 another hollow peace was concluded. Coligni was in¬ 
vited to court, and, with his adherents, was loaded with favours. 
Charles IX., by way of indemnity for his losses, gave him a 
seat in the council and one hundred thousand francs. Such 
unexpected attentions alarmed his friends, and he was warned 
not to trust the caresses of a perfidious court. The wisdom of 
this warning. w T as soon made apparent. On the 22d of August, 
1572, as the admiral was leaving the Louvre, his right arm 
and left hand were wounded by a shot from a neighbouring 
window. It was fired by one Maurevel, a creature of Cathe¬ 
rine de Medici, and, as was supposed, with the knowledge of 
the Duke of Guise. The king ordered search to be made for 
the assassin, and, with signs of the deepest sorrow, exclaimed 
to Coligni, “ My father, you have the wounds, but I the pain.” 
At the same time, preparations were making for the massacre 
of St. Bartholomew! 

The following account of Coligni’s death, one of the best 
ever written, is from the pen of an English living writer : 

It yet wanted an hour and a half of day-break, when the 
appointed signal was to be given upon the tocsin of the Hall 
14 


106 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


of Justice. But the interval appeared too long for Catherine’s 
fears ; and, as the distance to the Palais de Justice was consider¬ 
able, she commanded the tocsin of St. Germain de l’Auxerrois, 
which is close upon the Louvre, to be sounded in its place, and 
the dreadful alarum to be given without loss of time. 

This order being issued, a pause of perfect silence ensued; 
and then those three guilty creatures—the queen and her two 
miserable sons—crept to a small closet over the gate of the 
Louvre, and, opening a window, looked uneasily out into the 
night. 

But all was silent as the grave. 

Suddenly a pistol shot was heard. 

“ I know not from whence,”* says the Duke d’Anjou, (for it 
is his account which I am following,) “ nor if it wounded any 
one ; but this I know, the report struck us all three tellement 
dans Vesprit qu'il offensa notre sens et notre jugement.f Seized 
at once with terror and apprehension at the idea of those great 
disorders about to be committed, we sent down a gentleman in 
much haste to tell the Duke de Guise to proceed no further 
against the admiral, which would have prevented all that fol¬ 
lowed.”! 

But the order came too late; Guise was already gone. 

—It was still dark, for the morning had not yet dawned 
when, through the awful stillness of that fearful night, the toc¬ 
sin of St. Germains was heard sounding. 

Through streets lighted by the flambeaux which now ap¬ 
peared in every window, and through crowds of people gather¬ 
ing on every side, the Dukes de Guise and Nevers, with the 
Chevalier d’Angoul^me and their suite, made their way to the 
hotel of the admiral, with whose murder the general slaughter 
was to begin. 

Coligni, reposing in peace upon the good faith of his master, 
was quietly resting in his bed, and, having dismissed Guerchi 
and Teligny, who lingered long after the rest of the Huguenot 
gentlemen had retired, was attended only by Cornaton and 
Labonne, two of his gentlemen; Yolet, his squire; Merlin, his 
religious minister ; his German interpreter, and Ambrose Par6, 

* Discours a une personne d’honneur, p. Henri III.—Mem. de Villeroy. 
f In such a manner that it seemed to take away both sense and judgment, 
t Discours a une, &c. 

14 




ADMIRAL COLIGNI. 


107 


who was still in the house. His ordinary domestic servants 
were, however, in waiting in the antechamber. Outside the 
street-door of his hotel, Cosseins, with fifty arquehusiers, was 
posted, and within were five Swiss guards belonging to the 
King of Navarre. 

As soon as the Duke de Guise, followed by his company, ap¬ 
peared, Cosseins knocked at the outer door, which opened into 
the hall where the Swiss were placed, and, saying one was come 
from the king who wanted to speak to the admiral, demanded 
admittance. Some persons, who were in waiting, upon this 
went up to Labonne, who kept the keys, and who came down 
into the court, and hearing the voice of Cosseins, undid the 
lock immediately. But, at the moment the door opened, the 
unfortunate gentleman fell covered with blood, poignarded by 
Cosseins, as he rushed in, followed by his arquehusiers. The 
Swiss guards prepared to defend themselves; but, when they 
saw the tumult headed by the very men who stood guard be¬ 
fore the door, they lost courage, and, retreating behind an¬ 
other which led to the stairs, shut and bolted it; but the arque- 
busiers fired through it, and one of the Swiss guards fell. 

The noise below awakened Cornaton, who, springing up, ran 
down to inquire the cause of this disturbance. He found the 
hall filled with soldiers, with Cosseins crying out to open the 
inner door de par le Hoi. Seeing no means to escape, he resolved 
at least to defend the house as long as he could, and began bar¬ 
ricading the door with boxes, benches, and any thing that came 
to hand. 

This done, he ran up to the admiral. He found him already 
risen and in his dressing-gown, standing leaning against the* 
wall of his room and engaged in prayer. Still unsuspicious of 
the real truth, and imagining the populace, headed by the 
Guises, were endeavouring to force the house, he relied upon 
Cosseins for protection. Merlin, who lay in the same cham¬ 
ber, had risen with him on the first alarm. 

Cornaton entering in the greatest terror, Coligni asked 
what all this noise was about ? “ My Lord,’’ said Cornaton, 

«it is God who calls you. The hall is carried; we have no 
means of resistance !” The eyes of Coligni were suddenly 
opened, and he began to understand the treachery of the king; 
but the terrible conviction could not shake his composure. He 


108 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


preserved his usual firmness, and said calmly, “ I have long 
been prepared to die. But for you—all of you—save your¬ 
selves, if it be possible. You can be of no assistance to me; 
I recommend my soul to the mercy of God.” Upon this, those 
who were in the room, all, except one faithful servant, Nicholas 
Muss, his trucheman , or German interpreter, ran up to the 
garrets, and, finding a window in the roof, endeavoured to 
escape over the tops of the neighbouring houses; but they 
were fired at from below, and the most part killed, Merlin and 
Cornaton, with two others, only surviving. 

In the mean time, Cosseins having broken the inner door, 
sent in some Swiss of the Duke d’Anjou’s guard, (known by 
their uniform, black, white, and green.) These passed the 
Swiss upon the stairs without molesting them; but Cosseins, 
rushing in after, armed in his cuirass and with his naked sword 
in his hand, followed by his arquebusiers, massacred them all, 
and then, hurrying up stairs, forced open the door of the ad¬ 
miral’s room. Besme, a page of the Duke de Guise, a man of 
Picardy named Attin Sarlaboux, and a few others rushed in. 
They found Coligni seated in an arm-chair, regarding them with 
the composed and resolute air of one who had nothing to fear. 
Besme rushed forward with his sword raised in his hand, cry¬ 
ing out, “Are you the admiral?” “I am,” replied Coligni, 
looking calmly at the sword. “ Young man, you ought to re¬ 
spect my gray hairs and my infirmities ; yet you cannot shorten 
my life.” For answer, Besme drove his sword to the hilt in 
the admiral’s bosom ; then he struck him over the head and 
across the face. The other assassins fell upon him, and, co¬ 
hered with wounds, he soon lay mangled and dead at their feet. 
D’Aubign^ adds, that, at the first blow, Coligni cried out, “ If 
it had but been at the hands of a man of honour, and not from 
this varlet— au moins si je mourrois de la main d’un cavalier 
et non point de ce goujat.” 

The above circumstances were related afterwards by Attin 
Sarlaboux, who has been mentioned as one of the murderers; 
but who was so struck with the intrepidity displayed by this 
great captain, that he could never afterwards speak of the scene 
but in terms of admiration, saying “ he had never seen man 
meet death with such constancy and firmness.” 

The Duke de Guise, and the rest who had penetrated into the 


ADMIRAL COLIGNI. 


109 


court, stood under the window of the admiral’s chamber, Guise 
impatiently crying out, “Besme, have you done?” “It is 
over,” answered he from above. The Chevalier d’Angoulfone 
called out, “ Here is Guise will not believe it unless he sees it 
with his own eyes. Throw him out of the window.” Then 
Besme and Sarlaboux, with some difficulty, lifted up the gashed 
and bleeding body, and flung it down. The face being so co¬ 
vered with blood that it could not be recognised, the Duke de 
Guise stooped down, and wiping it with his handkerchief, this 
man, whom Hume has not hesitated to call as magnanimous as 
his father, cried out, « I know him ;” and, giving a kick to the 
poor dead body of him whom living every man in France had 
feared , “ lie there,” said he, “ bete vinemeuse , tu ne repandras 
done plus ton venin.”* 

The head was afterwards severed from the body, and carried 
to the queen, with a large sack full of papers found in pillaging 
the house. The poor, miserable trunk was exposed to all the 
insults which the terrific violence of an infuriated and fanatical 
mob can lavish upon the objects of its detestation. Mutilated, 
half-burned, dragged through the dirt and mire, kicked, beaten, 
and trampled on by the very children in the street. It was 
lastly hung by the heels upon a common gibbet at Montfaucon. 
Such was the fate of that honest patriot and true Christian— 
Gaspard Coligni. 

The admiral’s character is sketched by the same pen: 

Gaspard de Coligni, Seigneur de Chatillon, occupies the next 
place, after his great rival, though early friend, the Duke de 
Guise. 

Governor of Picardy and of the Isle of France, he first held 
the charge of colonel-general of the French infantry; but he 
had now resigned it to his brother, the Seigneur d’Andelot, 
when he himself was created Grand Admiral of France; and 
he now held that post, considered as one of the most eminent 
in the kingdom, and rated above that of field-marshal. 

Brantome compares him and the Duke of Guise to two dia¬ 
monds of the finest water ; on the superior excellence of which 
it is impossible to decide. “ In their youth,” says he, “ the 
greatest friendship had subsisted between them; wearing the 

* Lie there, poisonous serpent; thou shalt shed thy venom no more.— 
M6m. de VEtat de France sous Charles IX. , Ob. Ttivannes 27. 

K 



110 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


same dresses, using the same liveries, of the same parties in 
tournaments and combats de plaisir , runnings at the ring, and 
masquerades. 

“ Monsieur de Guise was prodigiously eloquent, and so was 
M. l’Amiral; but the latter was the more learned of the two. 
He understood and spoke Latin well; he had both studied and 
read; always reading when not engaged in affairs; a censor 
and weigher of things, loving honour and virtue.”* 

To this it must be added, that his sense of religious obliga¬ 
tion was most deep and fervent, and that, with him, the main¬ 
tenance of the Reform was no pretence to cover a factious 
ambition, but an object of the most serious importance, justi¬ 
fied by his convictions, and to which he deliberately sacrificed 
the best years of his life, and, finally, life itself. Brantome 
bears witness how earnestly this great and good man laboured 
for peace ; and how invariably he repressed the ambitious de¬ 
signs of his followers, saying, “ If we have our religion, what 
do we want more ?” And he feelingly describes the patriotic 
intentions and affectionate confidence with which, after the third 
troubles, Coligni returned to the king and to that court where 
he was so barbarously slaughtered. 

Coligni was one in truth devoted to the great cause of hu¬ 
man improvement in all its forms—labouring for the advance¬ 
ment of truth and the maintenance of justice and order. As 
colonel-general of the French infantry, colonel general de 
Vinfanterie Frangaise , Brantdme tells us, “It was he who 
regulated it by those fine ordonnances that we still have of his, 
and which are printed, practised, read, and published among 
our bands. Captains and others, even of the contrary party, 
when any difficulty of war arose, would say, < In this we must 
be guided by the rules and ordonnances of M. l’Amiral.’ They 
were right; they were the best and most politic that have ever 
been made in France, and I believe have preserved the lives of 
a million of persons—to say nothing of their properties and 
possessions. For, till then, it was nothing but pillage, robbery, 
brigandage, murders, quarrels, and brutality, so that the compa¬ 
nies resembled hordes of wild Arabs, rather than noble soldiers.”f 

He is also recorded (Mem. de Vieilleville) as being the first 


* Brantome, Hommes Illustres. 


f Ibid. 



ADMIRAL COLIGNI. 


Ill 


who planned an hospital for the French army; and in another 
place he is mentioned as building a large meeting-house at 
Rouen for the celebration of the reformed worship; while the 
strenuous efforts be made at the States-General of Orleans, 
1560, to obtain something like a regular system of representa¬ 
tion for the people of France, proves the wisdom and energy 
of his political character. He was, perhaps, one of the truest 
patriots that France ever possessed; yet such is the force of 
religious prejudice and the injustice of history, that the French 
writers, almost without exception, (save those, indeed, devoted 
to his own party,) conspire in the attempt to cover him with 
obloquy, as a turbulent and ambitious malcontent—handing 
down from one to another that sophistical sentence applied to 
him by his enemies; that his greatest exploits were against his 
king, his religion, and his country. 

He was married to Charlotte de Laval, a lady devoted to the 
new religion ; and it was she who established in his family what 
he ever afterwards maintained, a gravity and decorum rarely to 
be seen in the households of the nobility of his time. 

As an example of what that sort of discipline was which the 
members of the Reform instituted in their families, I will, from 
a cotemporary author^ transcribe a description of these domes¬ 
tic habits. 

“As soon as the admiral had quitted his bed, which in gene¬ 
ral was very early in the morning, and had wrapped his night¬ 
gown around him, he knelt down, as did his attendants, and 
made a prayer, after the custom of the French Huguenot 
churches; after which, while he was waiting for the sermon, 
(which was preached every day, accompanied' with the singing 
of psalms,) he gave audience to the deputies of the churches 
that were sent to him, and employed himself in public. Occa¬ 
sionally he did business after the sermon till dinner-time. 
When dinner was ready, his household servants, except those 
who were immediately employed in preparing the necessaries 
of the table, all waited in the great hall. When, the table be¬ 
ing set, the admiral, with his wife by his side, stood at the head 
of it. If there had been no sermon that morning, a psalm was 
sung, and then the usual benediction followed; which ceremony 
numbers of Germans, colonels and captains, as well as French 
officers, who were asked to dine with him, can witness, he ob- 


112 


ADMIRAL COLIGNI. 


served, without even intermitting a single day, not only at his 
own house in days of quiet, but even while he was with the 
army. The cloth being taken away, he rose, as well as his 
wife and all his attendants, and either returned thanks himself, 
or caused his chaplain to do so. And, having observed that 
some of his household could not regularly attend the prayers 
in the evening, on account of their occupations and amuse¬ 
ments, he ordered that every one of them should present them¬ 
selves in the great hall after supper, and then, after singing a 
psalm, a prayer was said.” 


FREDERIC, ELECTOR OF SAXONY. 


113 


FREDERIC, ELECTOR OF SAXONY. 



ERMANY was the cradle of the Reformation— 
the nursery where the little plant of truth was 
fostered and watered, until it became strong 
enough to resist the storms that were raging 
without. The instrument appointed by God 
to perform this early part of his work was the 
elector of the state of Saxony, Frederic the 
Wise. 

Frederic was born at Torgau in 1463. At an 
early age he manifested a love for study, especially 
for philosophical studies, and an ardent piety. In 
1487, he, in conjunction with his brother John, 
succeeded to the government of the hereditary states? 
of his family, when he received the dignity of elector 
from the Emperor Frederic III. Worldly elevation 
could not overcome his humility, nor destroy his piety. 
Though belonging to a corrupt church, he longed after purity 
of heart, with the ardour of German enthusiasm; and the dili¬ 
gence with which he observed every ritual, and strove to feel the- 
importance of every duty, while at the same time he refused all 
persecution of his subjects, are circumstances of character, which 
in an age corrupt and bigoted, shine with peculiar lustre. In 
1493 he undertook a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre; and 
on that sacred spot he received from Henry of Shaumburg, the 
order of holy knighthood. He became the most powerful of 
the German electors; and by his wealth, generosity, and talents, 
won the title of Wise. 

It is in connection with the Reformation that we purpose 
considering the public and private life of Elector Frederic. On 
one hand we shall find him cautiously withholding his protection 
from that movement, until his reason was convinced of its 
foundation in truth; on the other, steadily defending it, after 
15 k 2 


114 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


being convinced, against the threatenings of princes, and the 
anathemas of the church. 

Frederic’s fondness for learning, and esteem for true godli¬ 
ness, first led him to take notice of Luther. These qualities 
are exemplified in some remarks made by him to Staupitz, his 
vicar-general, concerning the requisites of good preaching: 
“ All sermons,” he said, “made up of mere subtleties and human 
traditions, are marvellously cold, without nerve or power; since 
there is no subtlety we can advance that may not, by another 
subtlety, be overturned. Holy Scripture alone is clothed with 
such power and majesty, that, shaming us out of our rules of 
reason, it compels us to cry out, ‘Never man spake as this !’ ” 
Staupitz assenting to this, the elector extended his hand, saying, 
“Promise me that you will always think thus.” Taking this as 
an index of the elector’s views, we cannot wonder that on 
Staupitz’s recommendation, he invited Luther (1508) to the 
professorship of Wittemberg University. This, it will be ob¬ 
served, was nine years before the commencement of the Re¬ 
formation. 

On the 31st of October, 1517, Luther nailed his famous theses 
to the gate of the University of Wittemberg. During the same 
evening Frederic is said to have dreamed that one of his monks 
had overturned the Romish influence. The fact of this occurring, 
rests on respectable evidence; we are cautious in yielding 
assent or dissent; but a more important fact is, that from that 
day, the elector watched the movements of Luther with deep 
interest, weighed well his cause and that of Rome, and finally 
became prince of the Reformation. Respectable historians have 
asserted that he favoured Luther, because Luther opposed the 
extortion exacted by the clergy from the state; but we may 
observe in opposition to this assertion, that Frederic carefully 
withheld his open assent until the Reformation had spread 
throughout Germany; that though an ardent admirer of Luther, 
he was never a zealous supporter; that he averred his willing¬ 
ness to silence the reformer, provided the Romanists proved 
him in error; and that the extortions of the clergy existed 
long after Luther’s attack on Tetzel. To the character of the 
•elector, rather than to his policy, must be referred his conduct 
respecting the Reformation. One train of circumstances which 
tended to convince Frederic of the errors of Romanism was the 


FREDERIC, ELECTOR OF SAXONY. 


115 


violence of its authorities. On the 23d of August, 1518, Leo 
X. addressed a brief to the elector, charging him to seize 
Luther, and either compel him to retract or send him to Rome. 
Without doing either, Frederic gave Luther an opportunity to 
appear before the legate who had brought the brief. The rude 
German foiled the polite Italian, who consequently endeavoured 
to assume surer weapons than those of argument. In a letter 
to the elector, he exhorted that prince to avoid tarnishing his 
honour, and-that of his ancestors, by sending Luther to Rome, 
or banishing him from Saxony. The elector sent a copy of the 
letter to Luther; and the indignant, manly address of the re¬ 
former, pleading for justice and for truth, made a deep im¬ 
pression upon Frederic. “ Since Doctor Martin,” he replied 
to the legate, “has appeared before you at Augsburg, you ought 
to be satisfied. We did not expect that, without convincing 
him of error, you would claim to oblige him to retract. Not 
one of the learned men in our states has intimated to us an 
opinion that Martin’s doctrine is impious, unchristian, or hereti¬ 
cal.” But as Frederic was still a member of the Romish church, 
he became alarmed at its prospects, in connection with Luther’s 
doctrine, and not long after issued a command for the reformer 
to depart. A fortunate circumstance gave a favourable turn 
to affairs, and the command was recalled. Immediately after, 
Luther appealed from the authority of the pope to that of a 
general council; from which time Frederic abandoned all idea 
of delivering him to his enemies. In May, 1519, an agreement 
was made with the legate, that Luther’s cause should not be 
acted upon until the next meeting of the diet; and, by the 
providence of God, that meeting was postponed for two years. 

The sixteenth century was big with political as well as reli¬ 
gious revolution. On the 12th of January, 1519, died Maxi¬ 
milian, Emperor of Germany; and in June the electoral diet 
met to choose his successor. It consisted of the seven great 
German princes, of whom Frederic was chief. The candidates 
for the imperial dignity were Charles, the young King of Spain, 
Francis I. of France, Henry VIII. of England, and the King of 
Naples. Immense sums were lavished by each of the compe¬ 
titors to secure his election; but, passing by all bribes, the 
electors unanimously offered the crown to Frederic. His answer 
is worthy of record. “ In times of tranquillity we wish for an 


116 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


emperor who has not power to invade our liberties; times of 
danger demand one who is able to secure our safety. The 
Turkish armies, led by a gallant and victorious monarch, are now 
assembling. They are ready to pour in upon Germany with a 
violence unknown in former ages. New conjunctures call for 
new expedients. The imperial sceptre must be committed to some 
hand more powerful than mine or that of any other German 
prince. We possess neither dominions, nor revenues, nor authority 
which would enable us to encounter such a formidable ene¬ 
my. Recourse must be had, in this exigency, to one of the rival 
monarchs. Each of them can bring into the field, forces suffi¬ 
cient for our defence. But as the King of Spain is of German 
extraction; as he is a member and prince of the empire by the 
territories which descend to him from his grandfather; as his 
dominions stretch along that frontier which lies most exposed 
to the enemy—his claim is preferable, in my opinion, to that of 
a stranger to our language, to our blood, and to our country; 
and therefore I give my vote to confer on him the imperial 
crown.” These reasons decided the electors in their choice. 
The grateful ambassadors of Charles offered Frederic a consider¬ 
able sum of money; he rejected it with disdain: they begged 
leave to distribute it among his followers ; he could not, he said, 
prevent them from accepting what might be offered; but who¬ 
ever among them took a single florin, should next morning be 
dismissed from his service. 

It was perhaps an error in Frederic not to accept the imperial 
crown; but however we may decide this question, it is cer¬ 
tain that the new emperor speedily placed the Reformation in 
more danger than it had yet been. At the same time, the 
pope and his creatures, who favoured Charles, redoubled their 
efforts against Luther. “Let not Luther,” wrote one of the 
emissaries to the elector, “ find an asylum in your highness’s 
territories; let him be everywhere driven and stoned in open 
day; that will rejoice me more than if you were to give me ten 
thousand crowns.” Frederic’s own representative at Rome wrote 
that he could receive no audience, on account of his master’s 
protection to Luther. The elector was not to be intimidated. 
His rule in reference to the Reformation was, that if the work 
of man, it could not succeed; if the work of God, it could not 
be overturned. He intimated to the pope that, instead of de- 


FREDERIC, ELECTOR OF SAXONY. H7 

fending Luther, he had left him to defend himself; that having 
requested him to leave Saxony, the doctor would have obeyed, 
but that the legate Miltitz begged the elector to keep him near 
his person, lest he might in other countries enjoy more liberty. 
“Germany,” continued Frederic, “possesses a great number of 
learned men, well acquainted with languages and sciences; the 
laity themselves are beginning to be enlightened, and to be fond 
of the sacred writings; and if the more reasonable terms of 
Dr. Luther are refused, it is much to be feared that peace will 
never be re-established. The doctrine of Luther has taken deep 
root in many hearts. If, instead of refuting it by the testimony 
of the Bible, attempts are made to crush it by the thunders of 
the church, great offence will be occasioned, and terrible and 
dangerous rebellions will be excited.” In the same strain, some 
months after, he answered the papal nuncios who demanded the 
surrender of Luther, and required from the emperor a safe-con¬ 
duct for Luther, in order that he might appear before a tribunal 
of impartial judges. About a month after occurred his memor¬ 
able interview with Erasmus, who, with a frankness unusual to 
him, expressed his approbation of the reformer, and tended 
much to strengthen the elector in the course he was then pur¬ 
suing. 

At the Diet of Worms, Frederic sat by Charles when Luther 
acknowledged the works he had written and refused to retract. 
Through all the troubles which followed, he still protected 
Luther. Pope Adrian, enraged at this conduct, addressed him 
a letter, in which, after largely abusing both the prince and the 
monk, he continued: “ What punishment, what infliction dost 
thou think we judge thee to deserve ? Have pity on thyself, 
have pity on thy poor Saxons; for surely if thou dost not turn 
from the evil of thy way, God will bring down his vengeance 
upon thee. In the name of the Almighty God and our Saviour 
Jesus Christ, of whom I am vicegerent on earth, I warn thee 
that thou wilt be judged in this world, and be cast into the lake 
of everlasting fire in that which is to come. Repent and be 
converted. Both swords are impending over thy head—the 
sword of the empire and that of the papal authority.” The 
reading of this letter made the elector shudder. He had written 
to Adrian to say that age and disease incapacitated him for 
attending any longer to such matters; he received in answer 


118 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

one of the most insolent missiles, ever directed to a man in 
authority. Overcome by the feelings of insulted worth, he cast 
away his usual caution, and thought of waging war with the 
pontiff. Luther and Melancthon dissuaded him; the elector 
submitted in silence. A violent persecution broke forth against 
the adherents of the new doctrine in the territories of Duke 
George, and that prince desired the aged elector to begin a 
similar work in his own. Frederic replied that in his state 
crime should not go unpunished, but that matters of conscience 
he would leave to God. Not long after, the nuncio, Aleander, 
advised that the elector ought to lose his head. 

At length this aged prince was called by God from the 
tumultuous scenes in which he had moved. His death occurred in 
that gloomy and distracted hour, when the princes of Germany 
were marching against the fanatics under Munzer. The atro¬ 
cities of civil war wrung his heart and hastened his death. 
“Oh,” he exclaimed, “if it were the will of God, I would gladly 
be released from this life. I see nothing left, neither love, truth, 
nor faith, nor any thing good upon this earth.” His wish was 
granted. On the 5th of May, 1525, he received the communion 
from Spalatin. . None of his family were present; but his do¬ 
mestics stood round his bed, gazing at him in tears. “My little 
children,” said the dying elector, «if I have offended any one of 
you, forgive me for the love of God; for we princes often offend 
against such little ones, and it ought not so to be.” Spalatin 
poured into his ear the consolations of the gospel, and he re¬ 
ceived them as a little child. Then destroying a will in which 
he had dedicated his soul to the Virgin Mary, he dictated 
another, in which he cast himself on Christ “ for the forgive¬ 
ness of his sins.” He expressed his firm assurance that “he 
was redeemed by the precious blood of his beloved Saviour.” 
“My strength fails me,” he added, “I can say no more.” He 
died at five o’clock that evening. “ Oh,” exclaimed Luther, 
“how bitter to his survivors was that death!” 


JOHN HOOPER. 


119 


JOHN HOOPER. 



OHN HOOPER, Bishop of Gloucester, was 
born toward the close of the fifteenth century, 
and entered Oxford University about the 
year 1512. His manners, though pleasing, 
are said to have been grave and reserved. 
He learned rapidly, was created bachelor of 
arts at the termination of his first course, 
and soon after entered a Cistertian monastery. 
Here he devoted himself to the study of Scrip¬ 
ture. His heart became softened under the influ¬ 
ence of divine truth, and he began to perceive that 
;he Romish creed was not the creed prescribed in 
the word of God. “After the study of the sciences,” 
says his biographer, “wherein he had abundantly 
profited, he was stirred with a fervent desire to the 
love and knowledge of the Scriptures, growing more and 
more, by God’s grace, in ripeness and spiritual understanding, 
and showing withal some sparks of his fervent spirit.” 

As soon as Hooper had become convinced of the truth of his 
newly formed opinions, he made an effort to give them publicity. 
The age of Henry VIII. was unfavourable to freedom of opinion, 
and the monk became involved in difficulties with the prelates of 
that monarch. These difficulties, with the consequences of his 
opposition to the Bloody Statute, obliged him to quit Oxford. 
He found refuge under the roof of Sir Thomas Arundel, an early 
friend and patron, whom he served in the capacity of chaplain 
and house steward. Arundel was a Catholic, zealous for the 
faith of his fathers, and, though personally attached to Hooper, 
he determined to use some effort for his conversion. For this 
purpose he sent him to Gardiner, the successor of Cardinal 
Wolsey, and bitter persecutor of the reformers. This man de- 


120 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


tained Hooper three days, using, during that time, every means 
in his power to proselyte him. Failing in this, he sent him 
hack to Arundel, “right well commending his learning and 
wit, but yet bearing in his breast a grudge at Mr. Hooper.” 
From that time Gardiner eyed the man whom he had failed to 
vanquish in argument, and, not long after the interview, 
Hooper was cautioned to provide for himself. Hastily leaving 
his patron’s house, he borrowed a horse, escaped to the sea- 
coast, and crossed to France. In this country he remained but 
a short time. Returning to England, he was discovered by 
Gardiner’s emissaries, and again forced to fly. After various 
adventures, he reached the French coast, from which he set out 
for Germany. Here he formed an acquaintance with many of 
the learned men who had shared in the movements which ren¬ 
dered the German Empire the religious pulse of the world. 
Thence he travelled to Switzerland, where he was received with 
lively demonstrations of friendship and hospitality. At Zurich, 
he devoted himself to the study of Hebrew. In the society of 
true friends, he found that enjoyment which did not exist in 
his own land. A happy marriage threw around him the charms 
of domestic bliss; and he made no effort to leave Switzerland 
until the accession of Edward VI. The parting with those 
friends who had succoured him in his time of need, was affect¬ 
ing. “ We rejoice,” said his friends, “ both for your sake and 
especially for the cause of Christ’s true religion, that you shall 
now return out of long banishment into your native country 
again, where not only you may enjoy your own private liberty, 
but also the cause and state of Christ’s church by you may fare the 
better, as we doubt not but it will. One fear and care we have, 
lest you, being absent and so far distant from us, or else, com¬ 
ing to such abundance of wealth and felicity in your new wel¬ 
fare, and plenty of all things, and in your flourishing honours, 
where you shall come, peradventure, to be a bishop, and where 
you shall find so many new friends, you will forget us, your 
old acquaintance and well-wishers. Nevertheless, rest assured 
of this, that, though you should forget and shake us off, we 
will not forget our old friend and fellow-helper, Mr. Hooper.” 

On arriving in England, Hooper repaired to London, where 
he entered immediately upon the work of the ministry, preach¬ 
ing every day to large audiences. “ In his sermons,” says 


JOHN HOOP P ER. 


121 


Fox, « according to his accustomed manner, he corrected sin, 
and sharply inveighed against the iniquity of the world and 
the corrupt abuses of the church.” He thus gained the notice 
of the Protestant leaders, and, as his friends at Zurich had 
foreseen, was chosen for a vacant bishopric—that of Gloucester— 
“as well for his great knowledge, deep judgment, and long 
study, both in the Scriptures and profane learning, as also for 
his good discretion, ready utterance, and honest life, for that 
kind of vocation.” But scarcely had the appointment been 
made, than a new pretence for persecution was made. Hooper 
demanded to appear in a simple garb, like that of the Swiss 
reformers. The English prelates insisted upon the long gown, 
the cowl, and similar articles. The stronger party triumphing, 
Hooper was successively confined to his house, committed to 
Cranmer’s custody, and sent to the fleet. But at length the 
scruples of his persecutors were overcome, and Hooper entered 
upon the duties of his office. His earnest and unvarying zeal 
won the love and admiration of the people. The time not oc¬ 
cupied in preaching he employed in visiting his hearers, visiting 
schools, hearing public cause, or in private devotion. In the 
domestic circle, he was a pattern of the Christian pastor, and, 
when his revenue surpassed his expenses, he bestowed the sur¬ 
plus upon the poor. “ Twice,” says Fox, “ I was in his house 
at Worcester, where, in his common hall, I saw a table spread 
with good store of meat, and beset full of beggars and poor 
people; and, on asking his servants what this meant, they told me 
that every day their master’s manner was to have at dinner a 
certain number of the poor of the city by course, who were served 
with wholesome meat, after being examined by him and deputies 
of the Lord’s Prayer, the Articles of Faith, &c.” 

The usefulness of Hooper was suspended, and the prospects 
of Protestantism clouded by the death of Edward. Hooper 
was advised to flee. He intrepidly answered, “ Once did I flee 
and take me to my feet; but now because I am called to this place 
and vocation, I am thoroughly persuaded to tarry, and to live 
and die with my sheep.” He was among the first who were 
seized, on the accession of Mary. While on the way to answer 
a summons from Heath and Bonner, he was intercepted and 
ordered before the queen. At her council, he was angrily 
questioned by Gardiner and others concerning his marriage, 
16 L 


122 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

(scandalous in Romish eyes,) his doctrines, and his ecclesiasti¬ 
cal course. He answered calmly and clearly, was refused the 
privilege of defending his opinions, or of discussion, and de¬ 
clared “ worthy to be deprived of his bishopric.” From the 
council he was taken to the fleet, where he was “ treated with 
such inhumanity that the disease which ill usage, a damp prison, 
and foul air produced, had nearly prevented the purpQse of his 
enemies. The names of those persons who relieved him there 
with alms were taken by the jailer to Gardiner, to bring on 
their ruin.” 

During his imprisonment, Hooper and a fellow-prisoner, the 
eminent Rogers, were sometimes brought out for examination. 
As they passed along, the people crowded around, invoking 
their blessing, rejoicing in their constancy, and secretly de¬ 
nouncing their persecutors. To suppress such demonstrations 
without resorting to force, the Romanists circulated reports 
that Hooper and others had acknowledged and abjured their 
errors. Bonner gave countenance to it by frequently visiting 
their cells. Many of the Protestants were shocked and dis¬ 
tressed at this apostasy of their leaders. Hearing of the re¬ 
port, Hooper wrote a letter to his people, lamenting that they 
should think him capable of such wickedness, and, though in 
prospect of death, triumphing in the support of his Redeemer. 
He asserted that the frequent conferences of Bonner only 
strengthened his Protestant faith ; whereas, had he refused to 
confer with that bishop, it might be seized as an opportunity 
to denounce him as unlearned or stubborn. «It were better 
for them,” he says, “ to pray for us than to credit or report 
such rumours. We have enough of such as know not God 
truly; but the false report of weak brethren is a double cross. 
I have taught the truth with my tongue and with my pen here¬ 
tofore, and hereafter shortly shall confirm the same, by God’s 
grace, with my blood.” 

Three days after, Hooper, in custody of six of the queen’s 
guards, was sent to Gloucester to be burnt. By a refinement 
of cruelty, Mary had appointed Sir Anthony Kingston, one of 
Hooper’s personal friends, to oversee the execution. At sight 
of his friend, Kingston burst into tears, and begged him to save 
himself by submission to the queen. Finding his entreaties 
vain, Sir Anthony departed, thanking God that he had ever 


JOHN HOOPER. 


123 


known Hooper. The mayor and aldermen of Gloucester sa¬ 
luted their old bishop respectfully, and, at the request of his 
guards, he was lodged in a private house. Retiring early to 
bed, he slept soundly, rose at an early hour, and, as his execu¬ 
tion was to take place that morning, requested to be left alone 
until the fatal hour. He had been forbidden to speak; but, as 
he passed from the house to the market-place, amid a crowd of 
six thousand persons, many of whom he knew, he frequently 
smiled and looked toward heaven. As if to poison every barb 
of the sting of death, the stake had been erected near an elm 
tree in front of the cathedral where he formerly preached. 
On reaching it, he kneeled to pray. A box, containing his 
pardon, the price of recantation, was presented to him. “ If 
you love my soul,” he cried, “take it away.” Lord Chandos, 
who superintended the execution, ordered away the people who 
were crowding on the ground, in trees, and on each other, to 
catch the words of their pastor’s prayer. His neck, body, and 
limbs, were fastened to the stake with hoops of iron. He was 
raised upon a high stool, and soon the mass was in flames. His 
sufferings were lingering and excruciating; but, until his voice 
was choked, he called calmly, yet earnestly, for strength from 
heaven. “ He died,” says an old writer, “ as quietly as a child 
in his bed.” 

A memoir of this eminent man cannot be closed better than 
in the words of a letter which he wrote to his wife just before 
his execution, and from which may be learned the source of his 
constancy and Christian heroism. “ The troubles be not yet 
generally as they were soon after the death and resurrection of 
our Saviour Jesus Christ, whereof he spoke in St. Matthew, of 
which place you and I have taken many times great consola¬ 
tion, and especially of the latter part of the chapter, wherein 
is contained the last day and end of all troubles for you and 
me. Remember, therefore, that place, and mark it again, and 
you shall in this time see this great consolation, and also learn 
much patience. Were there ever such troubles as Christ 
threatened upon Jerusalem ? Even so doth the merciful Father 
lay upon us now r imprisonments, and, as I suppose, for my part, 
shortly death; now spoil of goods, loss of friends, and, the 
greatest loss of all, the knowledge of God’s word.” 


124 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JOHN CALVIN. 



ALVIN was born in Noyon, in Picardy, July 
10, 1509. His original name was Chauvin, 
which, in conformity with the custom of that 
age, he Latinized into the term hy which he 
is now known. His father, Gerard Chauvin, 
though a cooper by trade, dedicated his son 
at an early age to the church; and, accord¬ 
ing to the reformer’s own statement, he was in¬ 
debted to Claude d’Haugest for the rudiments 
of learning, and subsequently for a more liberal 
education. He had not at an early age to struggle, 
like Luther, with poverty and oppression. When 
scarcely twelve years old, a benefice was extended to 
him in the church of his native city; six years after 
he received a cure, from which in no long time he ad¬ 
vanced to a better. Benefactors seemed to favour him 
on all sides; and before his twentieth year, while yet in his 
studies, he had enjoyed several benefices, together with the office 
and income of cure. 

Calvin received his first ideas of the new doctrine from one 
Peter Olivetan, a townsman, who appears to have watched with 
interest the introduction of the Reformation in France. What 
may appear singular, Calvin now abandoned the study of the¬ 
ology, and repairing to Orleans, afterwards to Bourges, devoted 
himself to law. At the same time, Melchior Volmar, a German, 
taught him Greek. He resigned his benefices in 1532, and 
shortly afterwards published a Latin commentary on Seneca. 
In the following year, the persecution of his friend Cop, for a 
discourse in favour of the reformed doctrines, involved Calvin 
in a suspicion of heresy, and he fled to Angoul$me. Here, at 
the house of a canon named Du Tillet, he continued his studies, 
and began to collect materials for his Christian Institution, 


JOHN CALVIN. 


125 


published two years after. He next visited Margaret of Na¬ 
varre at Nerac, where he was well received, and where he 
became acquainted with many learned men. Venturing to visit 
Paris in 1534, he was again persecuted and obliged to flee. 
Retiring to Basle, he published his Christian Institution, under 
the form of the confession of faith of those persecuted in France, 
and designed to refute the assertion that they were rebels, and 
Anabaptists. Besides examining the doctrine of free will and 
of the merit of good works, Calvin in this treatise attacks the 
supremacy of the pope and the authority of general councils; 
denies that a priest or bishop is any more than a visible head 
of the church; denies the efficacy of all vows and sacraments, 
save baptism and the Lord’s supper; and considers neither 
these nor any other symbol essential to salvation. The power¬ 
ful reasoning of this book was insufficient to stop the persecu¬ 
tion, which, under the politic Francis I., raged to such excess as 
to threaten civil war. Abandoning his own country, Calvin 
went to England, where he was well received by the Duchess 
Renata, daughter of Louis XII. of France; but coming under 
cognisance of the Catholic authorities, he was again forced to 
fly. After visiting Paris, he retired to B&sle, where he asso¬ 
ciated with the reformer Farel in establishing the Protestant 
religion. While.Farel laboured in the pulpit, Calvin instructed 
the people in theology. At this time the Church of Geneva 
used leavened bread in the eucharist, removed the baptismal 
font, and abolished all holy-days except the Sabbath. These 
measures were censured by the Synod of Lausanne. Farel and 
Calvin, having defended the innovations, were ordered by the 
magistrates of Geneva to comply with the action of the synod 
or to leave the city in three days. They left, (April, 1538,) 
and retired to Berne. From this place Calvin went to Stras- 
burg, where he was kindly received by Bucer, and appointed 
professor of theology. 

At Strasburg, Calvin was treated with great distinction, both 
by the authorities and the people. To provide an asylum for 
the French fugitives, he erected a French church, which was 
soon crowded with worshippers. In 1540, he published his 
work on the Lord’s Supper, in which he endeavours to refute 
the opinion both of Luther, who regarded the ordinance in a 
literal view, and of Zuinglius, who understood it typically. 


126 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


About the same time he in two letters exhorted the inhabitants 
of Geneva to remain faithful to the new doctrines. The feelings 
of the Genevese had undergone a change since his flight, so 
that Cardinal Sadolet invited him to return to his church; and 
in 1541, a deputation from the magistrates induced the au¬ 
thorities of Strasburg to permit his recall. Calvin’s duties as 
deputy to the Frankfort Diet, and to the Ratisbon Conference, 
hindered him from complying until September. 

On returning to Geneva, Calvin applied himself with increased 
zeal to the work of the ministry. Agreeable to his draft of 
ordinances concerning church discipline, which was immediately 
accepted by the council, a consistory, half lay, half clerical, was 
formed for the purpose of watching over morals and “ over the sup¬ 
port of the true doctrine.” The manner in which the consistory, 
inspired and urged by Calvin, performed these duties, deserves 
severe censure; and the part which Calvin took in the examina¬ 
tion and persecution of those opposed to him in doctrine, is a 
melancholy proof of the influence of a bad age and a spirit of 
illiberality upon a good character. A magistrate was deposed 
and condemned to two months’ imprisonment, because his life 
was irregular, and he was connected with the enemies of Calvin. 
One Gruet was beheaded, “ because he had written profane 
letters and obscene verses, and endeavoured*, to overthrow the 
ordinances of the church.” Michael Servetus, while passing 
through Geneva, in 1553, was arrested, and on Calvin’s accusa¬ 
tion that in a book elsewhere published, he had attacked the 
mystery of the Trinity, was burnt. Let us remember that 
Calvin’s age was the age of persecution; that his country was 
the country of persecution; and that at an early age, his mind 
had been chafed and hardened by persecution. Circumstances 
may ameliorate where they cannot justify an action. 

At the same time Calvin actively engaged in works of useful¬ 
ness. He preached almost daily, delivered three theological 
lectures in a week, attended all deliberations of the consistory, 
all sittings of the clerical association, all meetings of the coun¬ 
cils, transacted various political affairs, published commentaries 
on the Bible, and numerous other writings, and maintained a 
correspondence with almost all the important men of Europe. 
Of his sermons in manuscript alone, the library of Geneva 


JOHN CALVIN. 127 

contains more than two thousand. He died on the 27th of 
May, 1561, in the fifty-fifth year of his age. 

In a history of the Reformation, the names of Calvin and 
Luther are always associated together; yet all regard them as 
antagonistic in the controverted points of religion. The essence 
of Calvin’s creed consisted in what are called the five points— 
total depravity, irresistible grace, predestination, particular 
redemption, and the certain perseverance of the saints. Not¬ 
withstanding his adherence to these points, his followers were 
not recognised as a distinct ecclesiastical body until the Con¬ 
ference of Poissy, in 1561, when they rejected some portions of 
the Confession of Augsburg, and henceforward assumed the 
name of Calvinists. The sect is still powerful in Germany and 
France; and Calvinism, in various degrees of purity, is the 
established belief of Presbyterians, Congregationalists, the 
Independent churches, and perhaps the greater portion of the 
Baptist church. Calvin has been alternately over-praised and 
over-abused by theological writers; and much confusion and 
uncertainty still exist with regard to his peculiar structure of 
some tenets, and the extent to which he carried others. The 
only way in which doubt could be removed, and praise or cen¬ 
sure justly awarded, would be to examine an impartial synopsis 
of his labours and writings; but unfortunately for the cause of 
truth, no sueh synopsis has as yet appeared. 

Calvin’s constitution was weakly, and he suffered from fre¬ 
quent sickness, aggravated no doubt by heavy labour. He was 
temperate in habits, gloomy and inflexible in disposition. He 
married in 1539; but his wife died ten years after. He pos¬ 
sessed very imperfectly those qualities necessary to true friend¬ 
ship, and his highest passion appears to have been in the propa¬ 
gation of those opinions believed by him to be correct. Im¬ 
petuous and petulant, he was obliged to maintain a constant 
struggle in order to avoid the sin of anger. “ I have,” he writes, 
“ no harder battles against my sins, which are great and numer¬ 
ous, than those in which I seek to conquer my impatience. I 
have not yet gained the mastery over this raging beast.” But 
his sincere thirst for truth, and the zeal with which he spoke 
and laboured for its propagation, were, if not the cause, at least 
the excuse for these failings. As a theologian, he was surpassed 
by no man of his age in acuteness of intellect, deep knowledge, 


128 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


and dialectical skill. As a sectarian author, he stands among 
the first rank either in Latin or French. He was also an able 
jurist and politician. Among the reformers of that eventful 
age, he ranks with the most daring and successful. By rejecting 
all religious ceremonies, and refusing to compromise even on 
the least essential points, he rallied round him the highly culti¬ 
vated minds who regarded all religious forms as mummery, and 
the large class of unlearned, who delighted in novelty and rejoiced 
in being as far as possible from the old church. He is second 
only to Luther in his posthumous influence. 


THEODORE BEZA. 


129 


THEODORE BEZA. 



EZA, or De Beze, was born of noble parent¬ 
age at Vezelay, in Burgundy, June 24, 1519. 
Like Calvin, he studied at Orleans, under the 
German philologer, Melchior Volmar, and 
became, at an early age, familiar with the 
ancient literature. At the age of twenty, he 
was made a licentiate of ‘law, when his family 
invited him to Paris, and an uncle conferred 
upon him the abbey of Froidmond. He was 
likewise in possession of a deceased brother’s pro- 
f perty, and two benefices. It was at this early age 
that he appeared as an author, in the Juvenalia, a 
collection of poems, uniting considerable wit with 
much petulance, and of which he was afterwards 
ashamed. Although he was at this time dissipated, 
yet his talents, his fine figure, and his extensive and 
honourable connections, opened to him the most splendid pros¬ 
pects. In 1543 he married secretly—a step which exerted a 
favourable influence upon his morals. While at Orleans, he 
had adopted as truth the reformed doctrines, and formed a 
resolution which, in all his irregularity, was never entirely lost 
sight of, to devote himself to their propagation. Severe ill¬ 
ness, some time after marriage, revived and strengthened this 
resolution. On recovering, he left Paris (1547) and repaired tO' 
Geneva. A professorship of the Greek language at Lausanne 
was offered to him. He accepted it, and, during ten years’ - 
residence at that place, his productions were various and im¬ 
portant. Among them were the Sacrifice of Abraham, a tragi¬ 
comic drama, written in French, a Latin translation of the Hew 
Testament, and a translation of the Psalms in French verse. 
During the same period, he delivered lectures on the Epistle to 
the Romans and the Epistles of Peter. When Servetus was 
17 





130 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


burnt for the alleged crime of attacking the doctrine of the 
Trinity, Beza published a defence of the measure, and this, with 
some other writings on Predestination, the Communion, the 
Punishment of Heretics by Magistrates, &c., introduced him to 
the notice and favour of Calvin. In 1558, he was deputed by 
the Calvinists of Switzerland to obtain the intercession of the 
Protestant princes of Germany in behalf of the Huguenot pri¬ 
soners at Paris, and his mission to the court of Anthony, King 
of Navarre, was on the same errand. In the religious confer¬ 
ence at Poissy, (1561,) he advocated the rights of his party 
with an energy, presence of mind, and talent, which won the 
admiration of his opponents. In the following year, he de¬ 
nounced image worship at the St. Germain conference. While 
in Paris, he sometimes preached before the Queen of Navarre 
and the Prince of Condd. During the civil war, he acted as 
chaplain to the prince, and, when the latter was captured, Beza 
joined Admiral Coligni. 

In 1563, Beza returned to Geneva. The comparative politi¬ 
cal tranquillity of Switzerland enabled him to devote much of 
his time to theological subjects, so that he engaged in various 
.controversies in support of the Calvinistic doctrine. On Cal¬ 
vin’s death, (1564,) Beza succeeded to his dignity and influ¬ 
ence, being considered the greatest theologian in the church. 
In 1571, he presided in the Synod of La Rochelle, and in the 
following year in that of Nismes. Fourteen years after, we 
find him opposing the theologians of Wurtemburg in the reli¬ 
gious conference at Montpelier. When sixty-nine years old, 
(1588,) this remarkable man married a second wife. At this 
period he repelled, with the energy and vivacity of youth, the 
assaults and calumnies of his sectarian and personal opponents. 
In 1597, the Jesuits circulated a report that he had died, and 
in the Catholic faith. Beza defeated the object of this false¬ 
hood by publishing a satirical poem ; while, at the same time, 
he resisted the efforts of St. Francis de Sales and the offers of 
the pope to convert or buy him to Catholicism. In 1600, while 
on a visit to Henry IV. in the territory of Geneva, he was 
presented by that sovereign with five hundred ducats. Though 
then enfeebled by age, he continued to labour with great assi¬ 
duity in the cause of Protestantism, until October 13, 1605, 
when he expired of old age. 


THEODORE BEZA. 


131 


Next to Calvin, Beza is esteemed by the Calvinists as the 
apostle of their creed. The associate and disciple of Calvin, 
and an ardent advocate of his doctrines, he seems to have in¬ 
herited the mantle which fell from that great man at his death. 
It seems probable that his judgment disagreed with Calvin’s on 
several important points; but he was willing to remain silent 
on these, rather than disturb the unity and prospects of the 
infant church. From this we may infer that his spirit was 
more liberal and his actions more tolerant than those of his 
teacher. It is a well-authenticated fact, that his fine personal 
appearance added considerably to the influence which he ex¬ 
erted over enemies as well as friends ; while his zeal, activity, 
eloquence, and varied learning, enabled him to resist success¬ 
fully every attack upon his doctrines or himself. In argument 
he was as severe and obstinate as Calvin. His writings, ex¬ 
planatory of Scripture, are still esteemed; and the History of 
Calvinism in France, from 1521 to 1563, which is ascribed to 
him, is a valuable work. His correspondence was extensive, 
and, during the forty years that he presided over the church 
of Geneva, no important step was taken by it without his 
approbation. 

The following notice of Beza occurs in Mrs. Marsh’s History 
of the Reformation in France: 

“ Calvin had refused to appear at the colloquy of Poissy, and 
had nominated Theodore de Beze, or Beza, to represent him. 
Beza belonged to a noble family of the Nivernais, and had been 
educated at Bourges by the same Melchior Yalmor, who is sup¬ 
posed to have converted Calvin. His youth had been one of 
licentious indulgence, which, unfortunately, some early poetical 
publications had rendered notorious; but, at two and thirty, a 
dangerous illness had occasioned serious reflections. He em¬ 
braced the reformed religion, sold his benefices, married, and 
retired to Genova. Here Calvin, who soon became aware of 
his merits and abilities, received him. After some years’ pro¬ 
bation, he was associated with himself in the ministry, and 
looked upon as his successor, somewhat to the surprise and in¬ 
dignation, it must be confessed, of the other ministers^ who 
regarded Beza at first as little more than a wit and man of the 
world. But these sentiments were of short duration. His 
piety and regularity were unquestionable; in erudition he sur- 


132 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


passed them all, and the elegance and facility of his style, the 
beauty of his person, and the grace and politeness of his man¬ 
ners served to recommend, in a remarkable degree, the doctrine 
he taught, and rendered him particularly useful in the conduct 
of those negotiations with foreign princes, in which the re¬ 
formed churches were so frequently engaged. He no sooner 
appeared at St. Germains, than his manners and accomplish¬ 
ments threw into the shade all the other ministers who accom¬ 
panied him.” 

At the colloquy of Poissy, assembled with a view to recon¬ 
cile the Huguenots to the Catholic church, the Cardinal of Lor¬ 
raine prepared a snare to entrap and confound Beza. He ex¬ 
tracted from certain books of the reformers a formula of faith, 
containing expressions on the Eucharist, to which he knew 
Beza and the ministers present would not assent, and summoned 
him to declare upon the following day whether he would adopt 
the formula or not. 

“The embarrassment of the ministers ^vas great. It was 
impossible to sign the formula, at the risk of being disavowed 
by their own churches.- On the other hand, they felt that a 
refusal would afford the cardinal a pretext for breaking up the 
conferences, and would throw a stigma upon Calvin as the au¬ 
thor of this paper—a paper the publication of which, though 
written in a spirit of conciliation, he had, in fact, ever after¬ 
wards regretted. The address of Beza extricated them from 
this dilemma. When called upon for his answer, he said that, 
before he and his brothers declared their opinion upon this 
formula, they wished to know whether it was presented by the 
cardinal in his own name alone, or in that of the assembly of 
the clergy, as a means of reconciliation. The cardinal an¬ 
swered that it had not been necessary to consult the assembly. 
Beza asked whether the paper contained the cardinal’s own 
confession, and whether he were himself ready to sign it. The 
cardinal, indignant to find himself thus questioned, replied an¬ 
grily that they appeared to forget who he was ; that they ought 
to know that he borrowed his opinions from no one, least of all 
from their divines. Beza quietly replied, «If the matter stand 
thus,’how can this paper produce conciliation ? and to what pur¬ 
pose shall we attach our signatures to a writing that neither you 
nor any of your bishops will subscribe V ” 


JOHN ROBINSON. 


133 


JOHN ROBINSON. 



HIS clergyman, who may be considered the 
father of our New England settlements, was 
born in 1575, in some part of England, and 
appears to have been educated at the Uni¬ 
versity of Cambridge. He was at an early 
age described as of a learned, polished and 
m modest spirit; pious and studious of the truth, 
largely accomplished with gifts and qualifications, 
suitable to be a shepherd over the flock of Christ. 
He received a benefice near Yarmouth; and in 
1602, was invited by a congregation of Puritans, 
in the counties of York and Lincoln, to become their 
pastor. He accepted the offer, and with Richard 
Clifton, the associate pastor, entered zealously upon 
the work of truth. 

We need but hint at, without describing, the condition 
of the English seceders, during the reign of James I. In the 
general persecution of their different sects, Robinson’s con¬ 
gregations endured their full shai^. Some were driven from 
their farms and their trades; some were confined to their houses; 
some were thrown into prison. Despised, vilified, hunted like 
dogs, they collected in small bands and fled to other lands. 
Government perceived it, and shut their ports against them; 
but by concealment, or the payment of extravagant rates to the 
seamen, many contrived to reach the continent. Holland was 
their foster home; for in- that country was enjoyed, what the 
people of no other European kingdom enjoyed—toleration of 
religious opinions. Tfie sufferings of these fugitives were ex¬ 
treme. In 1607, some of them hired a ship in Boston, Lin¬ 
colnshire, and engaged a captain or master to take them to 
Holland. When they had embarked, he betrayed them to the 



134 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


government officers. They robbed them of their money, books, 
and other articles, insulted the women, and carrying them back 
to the town, exposed them to the derision of the populace. In 
the following year, they hired a Dutch vessel, and though the 
women were weak and sickly, remained out a day in rough 
weather, waiting till they could embark. One boat-load had 
gained the deck, when a company of armed mounted men ap¬ 
peared, and the captain immediately put to sea. Those on 
shore, including all the women, were taken before magistrates, 
who dismissed them. Having sold their lands, goods, and 
cattle, they were obliged to depend upon charity. Their 
friends, after having being driven far north by a terrible storm, 
arrived at Amsterdam. They were subsequently joined by their 
friends and families. 

It was this band of emigrants, that Mr. Robinson, with the 
remainder of the Independent Puritans, joined in the fol¬ 
lowing year. He found there another congregation, that had 
come from England a considerable time before his own, and was 
conducted by Mr. John Smith. This man appears to have been 
unsteady in his opinions, and, though unwillingly, induced most 
of his flock to scatter. Fearing that the example might become 
contagious, Robinson proposed to his congregation to remove 
to Leyden. This they did one year after their arrival at Am¬ 
sterdam ; and at their new place of residence they remained 
eleven years. Here they enjoyed harmony among themselves, 
maintained friendly intercourse with the Dutch, and swelled 
so largely in numbers as at length to number three hundred 
communicants. • 

Some incidents with which Robinson was personally connected, 
soon after his arrival in Leyden, are deserving of notice. In 
1609, occurred the death of Arminius, founder of the Armenian 
school of doctrine. His successor, Episcopius, agreed in opinion 
with his master; the associate professor, Polyander, defended 
Calvinism; and the controversy between these men engendered 
such bitter feelings, that the disciples of one refused to attend 
the lectures of the other. Robinson attended the discourses of 
both; carefully weighed the arguments of each; and, deciding 
in favour of Calvinism, openly preached it to his congregation. 
So formidable an opponent could not be overlooked by the 
Armenians. In 1613, Episcopius published several theses, 


JOHN ROBINSON. 


135 


which he engaged to defend against any opponent. Polyander 
and others urged Robinson to accept the challenge; for some¬ 
time he declined; but at length, considering that it was his 
duty, he consented. A day was appointed; the logical com¬ 
batants appeared; and in the presence of a numerous assembly— 
ministers, laymen, professors, pupils, commoners—the discussion 
began. Of the result the Armenians have transmitted no record; 
but according to Governor Bradford, a rigid Calvinist, Robinson 
was completely successful. 

A personal difference had occurred between Mr. Robinson 
and Dr. Ames, on the subject of separation from the Church of 
England. Afterwards Ames was obliged to flee from the High 
Commission Court; a free conversation ensued between him and 
Robinson ; and the latter, after acknowledging that he had been 
in error, publicly recanted some of his more rigid notions con¬ 
cerning communion with the High Church. The doctrines most 
strenuously advocated by Robinson were, that the Scriptures, 
being inspired, contain the true religion; that every man pos¬ 
sesses the right to judge of their meaning; that by them alone 
doctrines should be tried, and that all have a right to worship 
God as they choose. The creeds of the reformed churches of 
England, France, Geneva, Holland, he recognised as true, and 
admitted their members in communion. On minor points he 
contended that no church should consist of more members than 
can conveniently worship together ; that any appropriate num¬ 
ber nf Christians may form a church; that, after being incorpo¬ 
rated by some contract or covenant, expressed or implied, these 
Christians have a right to choose their church officers—pastors, 
elders, ruling elders, and deacons; that elders, chosen and 
ordained, can rule the church only by consent of the brethren; 
that in powers and privileges all churches are equal; that 
though it was well to observe days of fasting and thanks¬ 
giving, no day was holy save the Sabbath; that no merely 
human institution could control matters of religion, and that 
ecclesiastical censures should not enforce temporal penalties. 

Such were the tenets held by the simple fathers of a future 
nation; and for nine years they entertained and preached them 
safely in Holland. But in 1617, they began seriously to think 
of removing. The language and habits of the Dutch were not 
congenial to them; the loose observance of the Sabbath shocked 


136 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


them ; the climate was unfavourable to their health, the country 
to their pursuits as husbandmen, the surrounding dissoluteness 
to their morals. Opposed to remaining any longer, and pro¬ 
hibited from returning to England, they began seriously to medi¬ 
tate the founding of a colony where, unmolested, they could 
pursue their favourite avocations and enjoy their favourite reli¬ 
gion. The Dutch merchants gladly offered to convey them to 
some distant plantation ; but though cast out of their land by the 
rulers of that land, they still maintained their allegiance to it, 
and refused to be the inhabitants of any other. Many wished 
to settle in Guiana, of which Raleigh had given glowing accounts; 
but the unhealthfulness of the climate and the proximity of the 
Spaniards were insuperable objections. At length the congre¬ 
gation decided upon joining the colony of Jamestown, in Vir¬ 
ginia ; John Carver and Robert Cushman were appointed agents 
to obtain the intercession of the Virginia Company at London 
with King James, that they might enjoy liberty of conscience, 
in their new district; the Company received them kindly, and 
obtained for them many concessions. For obvious reasons their 
petition was not presented to the king; and the agents returned 
well pleased to Amsterdam. Yet so distracted were the councils 
of the Virginia Company, that two years elapsed before the ar¬ 
rangement for transporting the Leyden church were completed. 

In 1620, preparations were commenced for embarking. Only 
the minor portion of the whole number were able to go at once, 
and Mr. Robinson remained behind with the others. A day of 
prayer had been held in the early part of the year, when the 
pastor endeavoured to remove the doubts of his people and con¬ 
firm their resolutions. A similar day was held in July. Some 
of the exhortations of Mr. Robinson on this occasion are worthy 
of lasting remembrance. After intimating that they might 
never again see him, he continues: “Whether the Lord hath 
appointed that or not, I charge you, before God and his blessed 
angels, that you follow me no farther than you have seen me 
follow the Lord Jesus Christ. If God reveal any thing to you 
by any other instrument of his, be as ready to receive it as 
ever you were to receive any truth by my ministry. For my 
part, I cannot sufficiently bewail the condition of the reformed 
churches, who are come to a period in religion, and will go at 
present no further than the instruments of their reformation. 



JOHN ROBINSON. 


137 


The Lutherans cannot be drawn to go beyond what Luther saw. 
Whatever part of his will our good God has revealed to Calvin, 
they will rather die than embrace it. And the Calvinists you 
see stick fast where they were left by that great man of God, 
who yet saw not all things. I exhort you to take heed what 
you receive as truth. Examine it, consider it, and compare it 
with other scriptures of truth before you receive it; for it is not 
possible that the Christian world should come so lately out of 
such thick anti-christian darkness, and that perfection of know¬ 
ledge should break forth at once.” 

On the 21st of July, those who purposed emigrating, repaired 
to Delftshaven, where they embarked on the following morning. 
Here Mr. Robinson dedicated them in prayer to God, and, after 
mutual benedictions, he and a portion of his people returned to 
Leyden, while the little fleet which bore the germ of a mighty 
people held on its westward way. 

From the time of the New England settlement, Mr. Robinson 
maintained a correspondence with his former people; but owing 
to difficulties and disappointments, he was unable to execute his 
intention of visiting them. He continued to labour zealously 
at Leyden, until February 22, 1625, when he was seized with 
violent ague. Though he preached twice on the ensuing Sab¬ 
bath, the disorder steadily increased; and on the 1st of March 
he expired, in the fiftieth^year of his age, and in the height of 
usefulness. He has been described as a man of good genius, 
quick penetration, ready wit, great modesty, integrity and 
candour. His preaching was instructive and affecting; his 
classical learning and acuteness in argument were acknowledged 
by his opponents. In manners he was easy and obliging; if 
convinced of error, he scrupled not to acknowledge; and he had 
learned, what few in that age were willing to learn, the true 
charity of regarding as Christian brothers, good men of all de¬ 
nominations. His widow and children removed to New England. 


18 


m2 


138 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JOHN WINTHROP, 

GOVERNOR OF MASSACHUSETTS. 

OHN WINTHROP, the first Governor of 
Massachusetts, was born at Groton, in Suf¬ 
folk, England, June 12, 1587. His father 
was a lawyer and a Christian, and his grand¬ 
father, also a lawyer, had been through the 
, ( persecutions of Henry VIII. and Mary. Win- 
y throp’s disposition and early education inclined 
to theological studies ; but his father educated 
him to the law; and so rapid was his progress, 
that, at eighteen, he became justice of the peace. 
At so early an age he is described as possessing 
wisdom to discern right and fortitude to execute it. 
He was an upright and impartial magistrate, a cour¬ 
teous gentleman and a sincere Christian. 

Of his life in England the accounts are meagre. 

When some eminent persons entertained a design of 
founding a new colony in New England, Winthrop was unani¬ 
mously chosen as their leader. Accepting the invitation, he 
sold an estate worth seven hundred pounds, and immediately 
embarked. He reached Salem June 12, 1630, penetrated in a 
few days into the country, left a few men on Charles river, 
(Charlestown,) and selected the peninsula of Shawmut as the 
site of a future capital. In about a month, the new colonists 
moved northward, and chose the place where Cambridge now 
stands, intending to commence building in the spring. During 
winter, they suffered with cold; provisions failing, they were 
obliged to live upon ground-nuts, acorns, and shell-fish, and the 
22d of February was appointed for fasting and supplication. 
Meantime, however, a vessel with provisions arrived, and the 
day was celebrated as a thanksgiving. In the spring, Winthrop 
and some others set up the frames of houses; but, in a little 



JOHN WINTHROP OP MASSACHUSETTS. 189 

while, these were taken down and removed to Shawmut, which 
was named Boston. The Colony of Massachusetts Bay, as it 
was called, now went into full operation, Winthrop being gover¬ 
nor. Former hardships were in a measure forgotten; the In¬ 
dians behaved friendly, and the colonists enjoyed for four years 
the rule of an able and industrious ruler. 

Our historians have dwelt with proud satisfaction on the 
social and public virtues of Governor Winthrop. He has been 
called the father of the infant plantation. His time, knowledge, 
means, and influence, were devoted to its advancement. He 
could exercise courtesy and condescension without compromis¬ 
ing the dignity of office. As an instance of the hold which he 
possessed in the affections of the people, it is related that, when 
a Mr. Cleaves was summoned before Charles I. by Archbishop 
Laud, in order to give some accusation against Winthrop, he 
gave such an account of the faithfulness and piety of the govern 
nor, that Charles expressed his concern that so worthy a per¬ 
son as Mr. Winthrop should be no better accommodated than 
in an American wilderness. To the people, Winthrop was an 
example of frugality and temperance. Besides denying him¬ 
self many luxuries of life, wdiich he might easily have procured, 
he supplied nearly every day the houses of some of his neigh¬ 
bours with food from his table. His patience, wisdom, and 
magnanimity were conspicuous in the severest trials; and his 
Christian virtues threw a halo of splendour around his other 
qualities. 

Winthrop did not escape the usual fate of prosperous men— 
that of being envied and hated by aspiring characters. Suspi¬ 
cions were "whispered concerning the fidelity of his financial 
dealings,’ party feeling steadily increased against him, and, in 
1634, he was defeated in the governorship. The same result 
attended the elections of the two following years. An inquiry, 
conducted rather ruthlessly, was instituted into his receipts and 
disbursements. He submitted to the examination with praise¬ 
worthy humility. The malice of his enemies moved every 
engine for his destruction; the evidence of his innocence was 
decisive and triumphant. Nothing could induce him to resent 
these proceedings. In a low station, he served the colony as 
faithfully as when governor. On receiving from a member of 
the court an angrily written letter, he returned it by the mes- 


140 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


senger, saying, “ I am not willing to keep by me such a matter 
of provocation.” Shortly after, the writer, on account of 
scarcity of provisions, sent to buy one of Winthrop’s cattle. 
Winthrop begged him to accept it as a token of his good-will. 
The man visited the generous governor, and exclaimed, “ Sir, 
your overcoming yourself hath overcome me.” 

In religious matters, Winthrop did not always evince the 
same liberality. His opposition to the doctrine of Mrs. Hutch¬ 
inson, involved him and the colony in dissensions, in which the 
acumen of party feeling was poisoned by assimilation with feel¬ 
ings of religion. In 1636, the Hutchinson party elected their 
candidate for governor, the celebrated Henry Yane. The en¬ 
suing year was one of bitter dissension. The Hutchinson party 
gained the majority in Boston. Fearing further increase, the 
court imposed a penalty on all who should entertain strangers, 
or allow them the use of house or lot above three weeks, with¬ 
out liberty first granted. This increased the popular discon¬ 
tent. From the people, dissatisfaction spread to the court, and, 
finally, the leading followers of Mrs. Hutchinson were banished. 

In 1645, some persons from Hingham complained that they 
were not permitted to worship God as they chose, and peti¬ 
tioned for liberty of conscience; or, if that could not be 
granted, they asked for exemption from taxes and military ser¬ 
vice. If refused, they threatened to appeal to the English par¬ 
liament. The petitioners were cited to court and fined as 
“ movers of sedition.” Winthrop joined in their prosecution. 
A party favourable to them required him to answer publicly for 
his conduct. He was honourably acquitted. On resuming his 
seat, he took occasion to declare publicly his sentiments con¬ 
cerning the authority of the magistracy and the liberty of the 
people. “You have called us,” was his language, “to office; 
but, being called, we have our authority from GOD ; it is the 
ordinance of God and hath the image of God stamped on it, 
and the contempt of it hath been vindicated by God with terri- 
# ble examples of his vengeance. When you choose magistrates, 
you take them from among yourselves—men subject to the like 
passions with yourselves. If you see our infirmities, reflect on 
your own, and you will not be so severe on ours. The cove¬ 
nant between us and you is, that we shall govern you and judge 
your causes, according to the laws of God and our best skill. 


JOHN WINTHROP OF MASSACHUSETTS. 


141 


As for our skill , you must run the hazard of it; and, if there 
be an error, not in the will, but the skill, it becomes you to bear 
it. Nor would I have you mistake in the point of your liberty. 
There is a. liberty of corrupt nature, which is inconsistent with 
authority, impatient of restraint, the grand enemy of truth and 
peace, and all the ordinances of God are bent against it. But 
there is a civil, moral, federal liberty, which is the proper end 
and object of authority—a liberty for that only which is just 
and good. For this liberty you are to stand with your lives; 
and, whatever crosses it, is not liberty, but a distemper thereof. 
This liberty is obtained in a way of subjection to authority; and 
the authority set over you will, in all administrations for your 
good, be quietly submitted to by all but such as have a dispo¬ 
sition to shake off the yoke, and lose their liberty by murmur¬ 
ing at the honour and power of authority.” In these we de¬ 
tect the principles of persecution for conscience’ sake; yet it 
should be observed that Winthrop’s views underwent material 
alteration before his death. 

In domestic affairs, Winthrop was unfortunate. After de¬ 
voting the greater portion of his substance to the colony, and 
suffering heavy losses, he was obliged to sell most of his estate 
to pay an accumulated debt. He buried three wives and six 
children; and his varied afflictions so preyed upon his mind, 
that his faculties began to decay seven years before his death. 
He expired of fever, March 26, 1649. He left five sons, one 
of whom became Governor of Connecticut. 


142 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ROGER WILLIAMS. 



HE accounts transmitted to us of Roger Wil¬ 
liams are meagre and unsatisfactory. He was 
born in Wales, of respectable parentage, edu¬ 
cated at Oxford, and admitted to orders in the 
church of England. Soon after, he married, 
and for some time he laboured assiduously as 
an Episcopal minister. But the same spirit 
which was afterwards fruitful in subjecting him 
to difficulty, induced him to join the Puritans, 
and becoming obnoxious to the laws against non¬ 
conformists, he abandoned his country, and came 
with his wife to America. He reached Boston 
February, 1631, and in the following April he was 
invited by the congregation of Salem to address 
them occasionally, under the inspection of their 
pastor, Mr. Skelton. Here he remained until that 
minister’s death, in 1634, when he was invited to fill his place. 
He now expressed more unreservedly his opinion on toleration 
and other points, in consequence of which he was speedily 
brought to account. The colonial government had never re¬ 
garded him in a very favourable light; and his public assertion 
that the king’s patent to them was void, because he had no right 
to dispose of the red men’s soil, was not calculated to make 
them more lenient toward him. He also condemned the prac¬ 
tice of permitting “ natural” men to take oaths, to pray, &c.; 
and he insisted that magistrates had no right to deal in matters 
of conscience or religion. For entertaining such opinions he 
was accused of heresy and apostasy; the church of Salem was 
censured, and Williams was summoned to appear before the 
court. He was charged with writing two letters,—one to the 
churches, complaining of the magistrates’ injustice and extreme 
oppression; the other to his own church, persuading them to 


ROGER WILLIAMS. 


143 


renounce communion with all the churches in the Bay, because 
they were filled “with error, pollution, &c. Williams acknow¬ 
ledged the letters, and offered to defend the sentiments expressed 
in them, by a public dispute. A Mr. Hooker was chosen to 
confer with him; Williams persisted in his opinions; the court 
ordered him to leave its jurisdiction in six weeks. It being 
then autumn, (1635,) he was permitted to remain until the en¬ 
suing spring, on condition of not inducing others to join in his 
opinions. His popularity with the people caused the magis¬ 
trates to sacrifice mercy to justice; a vessel was despatched, in 
January, to apprehend and carry him to England; but Williams 
had previously gone to Behoboth. In the spring he left the 
Plymouth colony, and went to Moonshausich, which, in humble 
reliance upon God, he named Providence. Here he founded a 
settlement, which has expanded into an independent state. By 
regarding the Indians as human beings, like himself, and en¬ 
titled to equal rights with himself, he won their friendship; 
and his little colony soon became an asylum for the stranger 
and the oppressed of other lands. No greater proof of his 
worth can be given, than the fact that that strict, uncompro¬ 
mising government which banished him, were in no long time 
led to look upon him in a favourable light, and, in 1637, actually 
employed him as their agent among the Indians. His inter¬ 
course with Massachusetts was marked with disinterestedness, 
fidelity, and wisdom, so that ever after Governor Winthrop was 
his friend. 

About this time the religious opinions of Williams under¬ 
went considerable change; he acknowledged the truth of some 
of the Baptist tenets, and in March, 1639, was baptised by 
immersion. During several months he preached to a society 
of-this order, but finally separated from them, doubting, it is 
believed, the validity of all baptism, on the ground of a want 
of succession from the apostles. As these changes of opinion 
exposed him to much loss and danger, we must ascribe them 
only to sincere convictions of truth. 

In 1643, Williams appeared in England to solicit a charter 
of incorporation for the colonies of Providence, Rhode Island, 
and Warwick. Succeeding, he returned next year. Eight 
years after, a difficulty arising on account of the claims of 
Ooddington, Williams, in company with Clark, was again sent to 


144 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


England, where, in 1652, he obtained a revocation of Codding- 
ton’s authority over Narragansett Bay. After this he was 
several times elected governor of the colony, and in 1663 had 
the satisfaction of seeing it obtain a new and more ample 
charter. He died April, 1683, at the advanced age of eighty- 
five years. 

The materials for a biography of Roger Williams, though 
scanty, suffice to show that he was a man of unblemished cha¬ 
racter, ardent piety, an humble seeker after truth, and, in his 
opinions of right and duty, unyielding either through threats 
or flattery. He was among the first pioneers of religious free¬ 
dom in America. Though so grossly injured by the govern¬ 
ment of Massachusetts, he never resented the injury, and on 
one occasion gave his persecutors information of the Indian 
plot which would have destroyed their settlement. He was an 
author as well as a preacher. His Key to the Indian Languages 
of New England, printed in 1643, evinces considerable know¬ 
ledge and research. The “ Dialogue between Truth and Peace” 
was printed in 1644. In this he discloses those sentiments of 
toleration and religious freedom which Milton and Locke after¬ 
wards delighted to dwell upon, and which were already advocated 
by the dissenters of New England. He was answered by Mr. 
Cotton of Massachusetts, who with great zeal, and no little 
bigotry, defended the right and enforced the duty of the civil 
magistrate to regulate church obligations. Williams replied in 
a treatise replete with powerful arguments. In August, 1672, 
he held a public dispute with them at Newport and at Provi¬ 
dence, and subsequently published an answer to a work by Fox. 
Many tracts are ascribed to him; and his numerous letters to 
acquaintances and public men are said to have been curious 
and valuable. 




JOHN WINTHROP OP CONNECTICUT. 


145 


JOHN WINTHROP, 

GOVERNOR OF CONNECTICUT. 



INTHROP, eldest son of Governor Winthrop 
• of Massachusetts, was horn in Groton, in Suf- 
' folk, Feb. 12, 1605. His fine genius was 
much improved by a liberal education, in the 
universities of Cambridge and Dublin, and 
by travelling through most of the European 
kingdoms, as far as Turkey. He came to 
New England with his father’s family, Nov. 4, 
1631; and though not above twenty-six years 
of age, was, by the unanimous choice of the free¬ 
men, appointed a magistrate of the colony, of 
which his father was governor. He rendered many 
services to the country, both at home and abroad, 
particularly, in the year 1634, when, returning to Eng¬ 
land, he was, by stress of weather, forced into Ireland;, 
where, meeting with many influential persons, at the 
house of Sir John Closworthy, he had an opportunity to pro¬ 
mote the interest of the colony by their means. 

The next year he came hack to New England, with powers 
from the Lords Say and Brooke, to settle a plantation on Con¬ 
necticut river. But finding that some worthy persons from the 
Massachusetts had already removed, and others were about 
removing to make a settlement on that river at Hartford and 
Weathersfield, he gave them no disturbance; but having made 
an amicable agreement with them, built a fort at the mouth of 
the river, and furnished it with the artillery and stores which 
had been sent over, and began a town there, which,, from the 
two lords who had a principal share in the undertaking, was 
called Saybrook. This fort kept the Indians in awe, and proved; 
a security to the planters on the river. 

19 N 


146 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


When they had formed themselves into a body politic, they 
honoured him with an election to the magistracy, and afterward 
chose him governor of the colony. At the restoration of King 
Charles II. he undertook a voyage to England, on behalf of the 
people, both of Connecticut and New Haven; and, by his pru¬ 
dent address, obtained from the king a charter, incorporating 
both colonies into one, with a grant of privileges, and powers 
of government, superior to any plantation which had then been 
settled in America. During this negotiation, at a private con¬ 
ference with the king, he presented his majesty with a ring, 
which King Charles I. had given to his grandfather. This 
present rendered him very acceptable to the king, and greatly 
facilitated the business. The people, at his return, expressed 
their gratitude to him by electing him to the office of governor, 
for fourteen years successively, till his death. 

Mr. Winthrop’s genius led him to philosophical inquiries, 
and his opportunities for conversing with learned men abroad, 
furnished him with a rich variety of knowledge, particularly of 
the mineral kingdom; and there are some valuable communi¬ 
cations of his in the philosophical transactions, which procured 
him the honour of being elected a fellow of the Royal Society. 
He had also much skill in the art of physic ; and generously dis¬ 
tributed many valuable medicines among the people, who con¬ 
stantly applied to him whenever they had need, and were treated 
with a kindness that did honour to their benefactor. 

His many valuable qualities as a gentleman, a Christian, a 
philosopher, and a public ruler, procured him the universal 
respect of the people under his government; and his unwearied 
attention to the public business, and great understanding in the 
art of government, was of unspeakable advantage to them. 
Being one of the commissioners of the United Colonies of New 
England, in the year 1676, in the height of the first general 
Indian war, as he was attending the service at Boston, he fell 
sick of a fever, and died on the 5th of April, in the seventy-first 
year of his age, and was honourably buried in the same tomb 
with his excellent father.* 


Mather’s Magnalia. 



CATHERINE OF ARRAGON. 


147 


CATHERINE OF ARRAGON. 



EMARKABLE no less for her virtues than 
her misfortunes, this celebrated woman was 
born in Spain, in 1483. Her parents were 
Ferdinand and Isabella. In early life she was 
instructed in those principles of piety for which 
her mother was remarkable; and throughout 
life she, on every occasion, displayed sincere 
humility and devotion. When eighteen, she 
was united in marriage to Arthur, Prince of 
Wales, son of Henry VII., of England; but on 
the prince’s death, five months afterward, the Eng¬ 
lish king, unwilling to return her dowry, contracted 
her to his remaining son, Henry. Marriage with a 
sister-in-law being opposed to the doctrines of the 
church, a special dispensation, was in this case ob¬ 
tained from the pope. The contract was not pleasing to 
Prince Henry. At the age of fifteen, he publicly protested 
against it, and was induced to ratify it only by the solicitations 
of the council, and the authority of his father. On his acces¬ 
sion, in 1509, he solemnly renewed his former consent, and 
crowned Catherine Queen of England. 

From the first, the queen appears to have been popular. 
But to the prospect of a happy union with Henry there were 
two fatal objections. A young monarch notorious for his ad¬ 
miration of youthful bloom, was not like to regard with favour¬ 
able eyes, for any great length of time, a recent widow, consi¬ 
derably older than himself; but even had this obstacle not 
existed, Henry’s temper was inimical to continued friendship. 
But, contrary to expectation, Catherine obtained a complete 
ascendancy over his affection, and maintained it without import¬ 
ant interruptions during nearly twenty years. This we can 
ascribe only to the amiable docility of her disposition, her fer¬ 
vid piety, which won the esteem even of enemies, and her well- 
cultivated intellect. 



148 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


The constancy of Henry was overcome by an introduction to 
Anne Boleyn; his old scruples concerning the legality of his 
marriage revived; and an application for divorce was laid before 
the pope. His holiness returned an encouraging answerand 
Henry prepared to cast away one, who of all others had been 
to him most faithful and affectionate. But Charles V., Empe¬ 
ror of Germany, and nephew to Catherine, interfered, and pre¬ 
vented the dispensation of the pope. The violent dispute and 
important consequences which resulted from the shuffling of the 
pontiff and the obstinacy of Henry, are known to every reader 
of English history. During the whole affair, Catherine con¬ 
ducted herself with gentleness; but neither entreaties nor 
threats could induce her to consent to a divorce, and thereby 
not only render her daughter illegitimate, but virtually acknow¬ 
ledge that she had herself been guilty of incest. When cited, 
in 1529, before the papal legates, Cardinals Campeggio and 
Wolsey, she refused to abide by their decision, and appealed to 
the court of Borne. The appeal was declared contumacious. 
Henry’s temper, never remarkable for moderation, gave way 
long before the dispute would naturally have terminated; he 
summarily cut the cord which he could not untie; and Cathe¬ 
rine’s legal disgrace was completed by the accession of her 
maid of honour, Anne Boleyn, to her honours and her throne. 
With Henry’s subsequent high-handed measures—the quarrel 
with the pope, the rupture with the church, the establishment 
of the religious protectorship in the person of the sovereign— 
Catherine had nothing to do. In 1532, she retired to Ampthill, 
in Bedfordshire, where she persisted in asserting her claims as 
Queen of England, nor was she intimidated by the act of Cran- 
mer, who on his accession to the primacy, publicly pronounced 
the sentence of divorce. But disease—the result of an inno¬ 
cent spirit abused and crushed—soon began to complete what 
Henry had commenced. Feeling her death approaching, she 
wrote a letter to the king, which is said to have drawn tears 
from his eyes. It recommended to his protection their daughter 
(afterwards queen) Mary, prayed for the salvation of his soul, 
and assured him that her affection toward him was still unabated. 
She died in 1536. 


KING EDWARD THE SIXTH. 


149 


KING EDWARD THE SIXTH, 



ON of Henry the Eighth by Jane Seymour, 
was born at Hampton Court on the 12th of 
October, 1587, and died at Greenwich on the 
6th of July, 1553. 

The annals of this prince present little more 
to our view than the strange events which at¬ 
tended the struggle between Seymour and Dud¬ 
ley for the possession of his person and autho¬ 
rity. The bloody war with Scotland, and the 
dangerous insurrections which succeeded at home, 
occupied the ardent minds and employed the ta¬ 
lents of those chiefs during the first two years of 
his reign; but the return of national peace gave 
birth to the bitterest discord between them; and their 
wisdom and bravery, which in the late public exigen¬ 
cies had shone resplendently in the council and in the 
field, presently sank into the contracted cunning and petty ma¬ 
lice of factious politicians. The protector sought to intrench 
himself in the stronghold of popular favour, and was perhaps 
the first English nobleman who endeavoured to derive power or 
security from that source: his antagonist, too proud and too 
artful to engage in an untried scheme, humiliating in its pro¬ 
gress and uncertain in its event, threw himself into the arms 
of a body of discontented nobles, lamenting the fallen dignity 
of the crown, and the tarnished honour of their order. He 
proved successful: the protector was accused of high treason, 
and suffered on the scaffold, and the young king was transferred 
to Dudley, together with the regal power. 

These circumstances, well known as they are, will be found 
to throw a new lustre on Edward’s character. In this con¬ 
vulsed time, so adverse to every sort of improvement either in 
the morals or less important accomplishments of the youthful 
prince; under the disadvantages of an irregular education, a 

N 2 


150 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


slighted authority, and a sickly constitution; he made himself 
master of the most eminent qualifications. With an almost 
critical knowledge of the Greek and Latin language, he under¬ 
stood and conversed in French, Spanish, and Italian. He was 
well read in natural philosophy, astronomy, and logic. He 
imitated his father in searching into the conduct of public men 
in every part of his dominions, and kept a register in which 
he wrote the characters of such persons, even to the rank of 
justices of the peace. He was well informed of the value and 
exchange of money. He is said to have been master of the 
theory of military arts, especially fortification; and was ac¬ 
quainted with all the ports in England, France, and Scotland, 
their depth of water, and their channels. His journal, record¬ 
ing the most material transactions of his reign from its very 
commencement, the original of which, written by his own hand, 
remains in the Cotton Library, proves a thirst for the know¬ 
ledge not only of political affairs at home and of foreign rela¬ 
tions, but of the laws of his realm, even to municipal and do¬ 
mestic regulations comparatively insignificant, which, at his 
age, was truly surprising. “ This child,” says the famous 
Cardan, who frequently conversed with him, “ was so bred, had 
such parts, w T as of such expectation, that he looked like a mi¬ 
racle of a man: and in him was such an attempt of Nature, 
that not only England but the world had reason to lament his 
being so early snatched away.” 

With these great endowments, which too frequently produce 
haughty and ungracious manners, we find Edward mild, patient, 
beneficent, sincere, and affable ; free from all the faults, and 
uniting all the perfections, of the sovereigns of his family who 
preceded or followed him : courageous and steady, but humane 
and just; bountiful, without profusion; pious, without bigotry; 
graced with a dignified simplicity of conduct in common affairs, 
which suited his rank as well as his years; and artlessly obey¬ 
ing the impulses of his perfect mind, in assuming, as occasions 
required, the majesty of the monarch, the gravity of the states¬ 
man, and the familiarity of the gentleman. 

Such is the account invariably given of Edward the Sixth; 
derived from no blind respect for the memory of his father, 
whose death relieved his people from the scourge of tyranny; 
without hope of reward from himself, whose person never pro- 


KING EDWARD THE SIXTH. 


151 


mised manhood ; with no view of paying court to his successor, 
who abhorred him as a heretic, or to Elizabeth, whose title to 
the throne he had been in his dying moments persuaded to 
deny; but dictated solely by a just admiration of the charming 
qualities which so wonderfully distinguished him, and perfectly 
free from those motives to a base partiality, which too often 
guide the biographer’s pen when he treats of the characters of 
princes. Concerning his person, Sir John Hayward informs 
us that “he was in body beautiful; of a sweet aspect, and 
especially in his eyes, which seemed to have a starry liveliness 
and lustre in them.” 


152 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


THE LADY JANE GREY. 



OR it is perhaps more prudent to adopt the 
inveterate absurdity, almost invariably used in 
this instance, of designating a married^woman 
by her maiden surname, than to incur the 
charge of obscurity or affectation by giving her 
that of her husband. It is most difficult to 
guess in what motive this singular folly could 
have originated, more especially as her epheme¬ 
ral greatness, and its tragical termination, the 
only important circumstances of her public his¬ 
tory, arose out of the fact of her union with him. 
It is needless, however, and perhaps nearly useless, 
to attempt to solve that difficulty, and on this ques¬ 
tion between common sense and propriety on the one 
hand, and obstinate habit on the other, we are content 
to take the wrong side. 

This prodigy of natural and acquired talents, of innocence 
and sweetness of temper and manners, and of frightful and 
unmerited calamity, was born in 1537, the eldest of the three 
daughters of Henry Grey, Marquis of Dorset, by the Lady 
Frances, daughter of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, and 
of his illustrious consort, Mary, Queen Dowager of France, 
and youngest sister of Henry the Eighth. The story of her 
almost infancy, were it not authenticated by several whose 
veracity was as unquestionable as their judgment, would be 
wholly incredible. Her education, after the fashion of the time, 
which extended the benefits and the delights of erudition to her 
sex, was of that character, and was conducted by John Aylmer, 
a Protestant clergyman, whom her father entertained as his 
domestic chaplain, and who was afterwards raised by Elizabeth 
to the see of London. For this gentleman she cherished a 
solid esteem and respect, mixed with a childish affection which 
doubtless tended to forward the success of her studies. Those 



LADY JANE GREY. 


153 


sentiments arose in some measure out of domestic circum¬ 
stances. That elegant and profound scholar, and frequent 
tutor of royalty, Roger Ascham, informs us in his « School¬ 
master,” that, making a visit of ceremony on his going abroad 
to her parents at their mansion of Broadgate in Leicestershire, 
he found her in her own apartment, reading the Phsedon of 
Plato in the original, while her father and mother, with all their 
household, were hunting in the park. Ascham expressing his 
surprise that she should be absent from the party, she answered, 
to use his own words, “ All their sport in the park I wisse is 
hut a shadow to that pleasure that I find in Plato—alas, good 
folk, they never knew what true pleasure meant.” “ And 
how,” rejoined Ascham, “ came you, madam, to this deep know¬ 
ledge of pleasure; and what did chiefly allure you to it, seeing 
not many women, hut very few men, have attained thereto ?” 
To this she replied, with a sweet simplicity, that God had 
blessed her by giving her sharp and severe parents, and a 
gentle schoolmaster; “ for,” added she, “ when I am in the 
presence either of father or mother, whether I speak, keep 
silence, sit, stand, or go, eat, drink, be merry or sad, be sewing, 
dancing, or doing any thing else, I must do it, as it were, in 
such weight, measure, and number, even so perfectly as God 
made the world, or else I am sharply taunted, and cruelly 
threatened, till the time come that I must go to Mr. Aylmer, 
who teacheth me so gently, so pleasantly, with such fair allure¬ 
ments to learning, that I think all the time nothing whilst I 
am with him; and thus my book hath been so much my plea¬ 
sure, and bringeth daily to me more pleasure and more, that in 
respect of it all other pleasures in very deed be but trifles and 
very troubles unto me.” 

Whether Ascham’s first knowledge of her extraordinary at¬ 
tainments occurred at this period is unknown, but he certainly 
gave soon after the strongest proofs of the respect in which he 
held them. A long letter remains, perhaps one of many which 
he addressed to her, in which he declares his high opinion of 
her understanding as well as of her learning, and requests of 
her not only to answer him in Greek, but to write a letter in 
the same language to his friend John Sturmius, a scholar whose 
elegant latinity had procured him the title of “ the Cicero of 
Germany,” that he might have an indifferent witness to the 
20 


154 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


truth of the report which he would make in that country of her 
qualifications. He speaks of her elsewhere with an actual en¬ 
thusiasm. “Aristotle’s praise of women,” says he, “is per¬ 
fected in her. She possesses good manners, prudence, and a 
love of labour. She possesses every talent, without the least 
weakness, of her sex. She speaks French and Italian as well 
as she does English. She writes elegantly, and with propriety. 
She has more than once spoken Greek to me, and writes in 
Latin with great strength of sentiment.” Sir Thomas Chalo- 
ner, also her contemporary, not only corroborates Ascham’s 
particulars of her erudite accomplishments, but adds that “ she 
was well versed in Hebrew, Chaldee, and Arabic ; that she ex¬ 
celled also in the various branches of ordinary feminine educa¬ 
tion ; played well on instrumental music, sung exquisitely, wrote 
an elegant hand, and excelled in curious needle-work, and, with 
all these rare endowments, was of a mild, humble, and modest 
spirit.” Fuller, who lived a century after her, condensing, 
with the quaint eloquence which distinguished him, the fruit of 
all authorities regarding her with which he was acquainted, says 
that « she had the innocency of childhood, the beauty of youth, 
the solidity of middle, the gravity of old age, and all at eigh¬ 
teen ; the birth of a princess, the learning of a clerk, the life 
of a saint, and the death of a malefactor for her parents’ 
offences.” 

Her progress from this beautiful state of innocence and re¬ 
finement to that dismal end was but as a single step, and the 
events relative to her which filled the short interval were matters 
rather of public than of personal history. By a marvellous 
fatality this admirable young creature was doomed to become 
the nominal head and actual slave of faction, and a victim to 
the most guilty ambition. The circumstances of the great con¬ 
test for rule between the Protector Somerset and Dudley which 
distinguished the short reign of Edward the Sixth, are familiar 
to the readers of English history. The latter, having effected 
the ruin of his antagonist, employed his first moments of lei¬ 
sure in devising the means of maintaining the vast but uncer¬ 
tain power which he had so acquired. Among these the most 
obvious, and perhaps the most hopeful, was the establishment 
of marriage contracts between his own numerous issue and the 
children of the most potent of the nobility, and thus, early in 


LADY JANE GREY. 


155 


the year 1553, the Lady Jane Grey, for whose father he had 
lately procured the dukedom of Suffolk, became the consort of 
his youngest son, Guildford Dudley. He was secretly prompted 
however to form this union by the conception of peculiar views, 
not less extravagant than splendid. Edward, the natural deli¬ 
cacy of whose frame never promised a long life, had shown 
some symptoms of pulmonary disease, and the confusion and 
uncertainty which the brutal selfishness of his father Henry 
had entailed on the succession to the crown suggested to the 
ardent and unprincipled Northumberland the possibility of di¬ 
verting it into his own family under such pretensions as might 
be founded on the descent of his daughter-in-law. 

The absurdity of this reverie, legally or indeed rationally 
considered, was self-evident. Not to mention the existence of 
the Princesses Mary and Elizabeth, who might indeed plausibly 
enough be said to stand under some circumstances of disinheri¬ 
son, Jane descended from a younger sister of Henry, and there 
was issue in being from the elder; nay, her own mother, through 
whom alone she could claim, was living; and the marriage both 
of her mother and her grandmother had been very fairly charged 
with illegality. Opposed to these disadvantages were the enor¬ 
mous power of the party which surrounded Northumberland; 
his own complete influence over the mind of the young king; 
and the affection which an agreement of age, talents, tempers, 
and studies, had produced in Edward towards his fair kinswo¬ 
man, and which the duke and his creatures used all practicable 
artifices to increase. The nuptials were celebrated with great 
splendour in the royal palace, and the king’s health presently 
after rapidly declined, insomuch that Northumberland saw no 
time was to be lost in proceeding to the consummation of his 
mighty project. Historians, with a license too commonly used 
by them, affect to recite with much gravity the very arguments 
used by him to persuade Edward to nominate Jane his successor, 
of which it is utterly impossible that they should have been in¬ 
formed. All that can be truly said is that he gained his point 
to the utmost of his hopes and wishes. 

The king was induced, apparently with little difficulty, to 
agree to certain articles, previously sanctioned by the privy 
council, declaring her next heir to the crown, and, for some 
reason long since forgotten, but probably because it was ex- 


156 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


pected that he would be the most pliable, Sir Edward Montague, 
chief justice of the common pleas, was selected from the judges, 
to digest and methodize them, with the aid of the attorney and 
solicitor-general, into the strictest form that they could devise. 
Montague, however, whose own account of his share in the 
transaction is extant, demurred. Having at first vainly endea¬ 
voured to withdraw himself entirely from the task, he sought to 
gain time, perhaps in expectation of the king’s death, by be¬ 
seeching to be allowed to consult the statutes, and all other au¬ 
thorities which might have any relation to so high a subject. 
Urged at length, with a vehemence no longer to be resisted, to 
proceed, he reported to. the council that the proposed measure 
was not only contrary to law, but would, if he were to obey their 
command, subject themselves, as well as him, to the penalties 
of high treason. Northumberland at that moment entered the 
council-chamber in the utmost extravagance of fury; called 
Montague a traitor; swore that he would “ fight any man in 
his shirt” who might gainsay the king’s inclination; and was 
actually about to strike the chief justice, and Bromley, the at¬ 
torney-general. They retired, and when they were next sum¬ 
moned, the king, being present, reproved them sharply for de¬ 
laying the duty required of them. At length, overawed, they 
consented, on condition of receiving an authority under tfie 
great seal, and a general pardon; and the instrument being 
prepared, the rest of the judges were required to attend, and 
to sign it, which was accordingly done by all, except one, Sir 
James Hales, a justice of the common pleas, and a man other¬ 
wise unknown, who, to his endless .honour, steadfastly refused to 
the last. The primate, Cranmer, with that unfortunate irreso¬ 
lution which formed the only distortion in the symmetry of his 
beautiful character, approved of Jane’s succession, but objected 
to the mode of accomplishing - it; contended, perhaps with 
more vigour than might have been expected of him, but in the 
end submitted, and signed, with the rest of the council, not 
only the document which had been prepared by the lawyers, 
but also a second, by which they bound themselves in the 
strictest engagement on oath to support her title, and to prose¬ 
cute with the utmost severity any one among them who might 
in any degree swerve from that obligation. 

The letters patent, confirming to Jane the succession to the 


LADY JANE GREY. 


157 


throne, were signed by Edward on the twenty-first of June, 
1553, and on the sixth of the next month he expired. Of these 
events, and even of the mere scheme for her fatal elevation, 
she is said to have been kept in perfect ignorance. The king’s 
death indeed was sedulously concealed from all for a few days, 
which Northumberland employed in endeavouring to secure the 
support of the city, and to get into his hands the Princess 
Mary, who was on her way to London when it occurred. She 
was however warned of her danger, and retreated; asserted 
without delay her title to the crown in a letter to the privy 
council; and received an answer full of disdain, and professions 
of firm allegiance to her unconscious competitrix. While these 
matters were passing, Northumberland, and the duke her father, 
repaired to Jane, and having read to her the instrument which 
invested her with sovereignty, fell on their knees, and offered 
her their homage. Having somewhat recovered from the asto¬ 
nishment at first excited by the news, she intreated with the ut¬ 
most earnestness and sincerity that she might not be made the 
instrument of such injustice to the right heirs, and insult to 
the kingdom, and that they would spare her, her husband, and 
themselves, from the terrible dangers in which it could not but 
involve them. Her arguments however were unavailing, and 
no means were left to her but a positive refusal, in which per¬ 
haps the strength of mind which she certainly possessed might 
have enabled her to persist, when the duchess, her mother, and 
the young and inexperienced Guildford, were called in, and to 
their solicitations she yielded. She was now escorted in regal 
state to the Tower, on her entry into which it is remarkable 
that her train was borne by her mother, and in the afternoon 
of the same day, the tenth of July, was proclaimed in London 
with the usual solemnities. 

In the mean time, Mary, who had retired to Kenninghall, in 
Norfolk, assumed the title of queen, and found her cause 
warmly espoused by many of the nobility, and nearly the whole 
of the yeomanry and inferior population of that and the adja¬ 
cent counties. Those who ruled in the metropolis, and who, 
having fondly considered her as a fugitive, had stationed some 
ships on those coasts to intercept her on her expected flight to 
Flanders, were now suddenly compelled to raise a military force 
to oppose to the hourly increasing multitude of her supporters. 

0 


158 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


Eight thousand horse and foot were collected with surprising 
expedition, the command of which was assumed bj Northum¬ 
berland, and it was agreed that Suffolk should remain in London 
to conduct the government, an unlucky transposition arising 
from Jane’s anxiety for the personal safety of her father, whose 
best experience was in martial affairs, while Dudley, with all 
the arts of a statesman, possessed few of those qualities -which 
win the hearts of soldiers, or bespeak success in the field. At 
the head however of this force he marched from London on the 
fourteenth of July, having taken leave of the council in a short 
address from which his doubts of their fidelity may be clearly 
inferred. They were in fact at that moment agreed to betray 
the extravagant and unjust cause which they had so lately sworn 
to support. Even on the following day their intrigues became 
so evident that Suffolk, in the barrenness of political invention, 
commanded in the name of the queen that the gates of the 
Tower should be kept constantly closed, to prevent the mischief 
which he apprehended from their communication with the ad¬ 
verse party. The lord treasurer with great difficulty procured 
egress for a few hours, and returned with the news that the 
naval squadron, which had been equipped with the view of seiz¬ 
ing the person of Mary, had revolted to her, and letters were 
received from Northumberland pressing for reinforcements, and 
reporting the gradual defection of his troops on their march. 
The council now affected the warmest zeal, and eagerly repre¬ 
sented the impossibility of raising such succours otherwise than 
by their personal appearance among their tenants and depend¬ 
ants, most of them offering to lead to the field such forces as 
they might respectively raise. Suffolk, deceived by these pro¬ 
fessions, and by the earnestness of their despatches to other 
powerful men in the country to the same effect, consented to 
release them from their imprisonment, for such it actually was. 
He did so, and they repaired, headed by the Earls of Shrews¬ 
bury and Pembroke, to Baynard’s Castle, the house of the latter 
of those noblemen, who had but a few weeks before married his 
heir to a sister of the unfortunate Jane, where they determined 
to proclaim Queen Mary, which was done on the same day, the 
nineteenth of July, 1553. 

Jane received from her father the news of her deposition with 
the patience, the sweetness, and the magnanimity, which be- 


LADY JANE GREY. 


159 


longed to her surprising character. She reminded him with 
gentleness of her unwillingness to assume the short-lived eleva¬ 
tion, and expressed her hope that it might in some measure 
extenuate the grievous fault which she had committed by accept¬ 
ing it; declared that her relinquishment of the regal character 
was the first voluntary act which she had performed since it was 
first proposed to raise her to it; and humbly prayed that the 
faults of others might be treated with lenity, in a charitable 
consideration of that disposition in herself. The weak and 
miserable Suffolk now hastened to join the council, and arrived 
in time to add his signature to a despatch to Northumberland, 
requiring him to disband his troops, and submit himself to 
Queen Mary, which however he had done before the messenger 
arrived. Jane, whose royal palace had now become the prison 
of herself and her husband, saw, within very few days, its gates 
close also on her father, and on'his. The termination of North¬ 
umberland’s guilty career, which speedily followed, is well 
known; but Suffolk, for some reasons yet undiscovered, was 
spared. It has been supposed that his duchess, who remained 
at liberty, and is said to have possessed some share of the 
queen’s favour, interceded successfully for him ; and why may 
w r e not ascribe this forbearance to the clemency of Mary, in 
whose rule we find no instances of cruelty but those which ori¬ 
ginated in devout bigotry,—a vice which while engaged in its 
own proper pursuits inevitably suspends the operation of all the 
charities of nature ? 

There is indeed little room to doubt that she meditated to 
extend her mercy to the innocent Jane and her youthful spouse. 
They were, it is true, arraigned and convicted of high treason 
on the third of November following the date of their offence, 
and sentenced to die; but the execution was delayed, and they 
were allowed several liberties and indulgences scarcely ever 
granted to state prisoners under their circumstances. The 
hopes however thus excited were cut short by the occurrence 
of Sir Thomas Wyat’s rebellion, in which her father, while the 
wax was scarcely cold on his pardon, madly and ungratefully 
became an active party, accompanied by his two brothers. 
Thus Mary saw already the great house of Grey once more 
publicly in array against her crown. The incentives to this 
insurrection are somewhat involved in mystery, and have been 


160 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


variously reported. The avowed pretence for it was an aversion 
to the queen’s proposed marriage with Philip of Spain, but 
there is strong reason to believe that with this motive was mixed, 
at least in the breasts of the leaders, a secret intention to re¬ 
assert the claim of Jane; and Bishop Cooper, a contemporary 
historian, tells us plainly in his Chronicle, that the Duke of 
Suffolk, “ in divers places as he went, again proclaimed his 
daughter.” Be this however as it might, it was now resolved 
to put her to death without delay, and it is pretty well authen¬ 
ticated that the queen confirmed that determination with much 
reluctance and regret. 

Jane received the news without discomposure, and became 
even anxious to receive the final blow ; but here the bigotry of 
Mary interfered, and she commanded that no efforts should be 
spared to reconcile her to that church which arrogantly denies 
salvation to those who die not in its bosom. She suffered the 
importunities, and perhaps the harshness, of several of its most 
eminent ministers, with equal urbanity and firmness. At length 
she.was left to Feckenham, Mary’s favourite chaplain, and af¬ 
terwards Abbot of Westminster, a priest who united to a steady 
but well-tempered zeal an acute understanding, and great sweet¬ 
ness of manners, and by him, according to the fashion of the 
day, she was invited to a disputation on the chief points of 
difference between the two churches. She told him that she 
could, not spare the time; “that controversy might be fit for 
the living, but not for the dying; and intreated him, as the best 
proof of the compassion which he professed for her, to leave 
her to make her peace with God.” He conceived from these 
expressions that she was unwilling to quit the world, and ob¬ 
tained for her a short reprieve, which when he communicated 
to her, she assured him that he had misunderstood her, for that, 
far from desiring that her death might be delayed, “ she ex¬ 
pected, and wished for it, as the period of her miseries, and of 
her entrance into eternal happiness.” He then led her into the 
proposed conference, in which she acquitted herself vyith a firm¬ 
ness, a power of argument, and presence of mind, truly asto¬ 
nishing. Unable to work the slightest impression, he left her, 
and she sat calmly down to make a minute of the substance of 
their discourse, which she signed, and which may be found in 
most of the ecclesiastical histories. She now addressed a fare- 


LADY JANE GREY. 


161 


well letter to her father, in which, with much mildness of ex¬ 
pression, though certainly with less benignity of sentiment than 
is usually ascribed to her, she repeatedly glances at him as the 
author of her unhappy fate. She wrote also to her sister, the 
Lady Catherine Herbert, in the blank leaves of a Greek Testa¬ 
ment, which she requested might he delivered as her legacy to 
that lady, an epistle in the same language, the translation of 
which, however frequently already published, ought not to be 
omitted here. 

“I have sent you, my dear sister Catherine, a book, which, 
although it be not outwardly trimmed with gold, or the curious 
embroidery of the artfullest needles, yet inwardly it is more 
worth than all the precious mines which the vast world can 
boast of. It is the book, my only best loved sister, of the law 
of the Lord. It is the testament and last will which he be¬ 
queathed unto us wretches and wretched sinners, which shall 
lead you to the path of eternal joy; and if you with a good 
mind read it, and with an earnest desire follow it, no doubt it 
shall bring you to an immortal and everlasting life. It will 
teach you to live and to die. It shall win you more, and endow 
you with greater felicity, than you should have gained by the 
possession of our woful father’s lands; for as if God had pros¬ 
pered him you should have inherited his honours and manors, 
so if you apply diligently this book, seeking to direct your life 
according to the rule of the same, you shall be an inheritor of 
such riches as neither the covetous shall withdraw from you, 
neither the thief shall steal, neither yet the moths corrupt. 
Desire, with David, my dear sister, to understand the law of 
the Lord thy God. Live still to die, that you by death may 
purchase eternal life; and trust not that the tenderness of your 
age shall lengthen your life, for unto God, when he calleth, all 
hours, times, and seasons, are alike, and blessed are they whose 
lamps are furnished when he cometh, for as soon will the Lord 
be glorified in the young as in the old. My good sister, once 
again more let me intreat thee to learn to die. Deny the world, 
defy the devil, and despise the flesh, and delight yourself only 
in the Lord: be penitent for your sins: and yet despair not: 
be strong in faith, yet presume not: and desire, with St. Paul, 
to be dissolved, and to be with Christ, with whom even in death 
there is life. Be like the good servant, and even at midnight 
21 o 2 


162 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


be waking, lest when death cometh, and stealeth upon you like 
a thief in the night, you be with the servants of darkness found 
sleeping; and lest for lack of oil you be found like the five 
foolish virgins, or like him that had not on the wedding gar¬ 
ment, and then you be cast into darkness, or banished from the 
marriage. Rejoice in Christ, as I trust you do; and, seeing 
you have the name of a Christian, as near as you can follow 
the steps, and be a true imitator of your master Christ Jesus, 
and take up your cross, lay your sins on his back, and always 
embrace him. . 

“Now, as touching my death, rejoice as I do, my dearest 
sister, that I shall be delivered of this corruption, and put on 
incorruption; for I am assured that I shall for losing a mortal 
life win one that is immortal, joyful, and everlasting, to which 
I pray God grant you in his blessed hour, and send you his all¬ 
saving grace to live in his fear, and to die in the true Christian 
faith, from which in God’s name I exhort you that you never 
swerve, neither for hope of life nor fear of death; for, if you 
will deny his truth to give length to a weary and corrupt breath, 
God himself will deny you, and by vengeance make short what 
you by your soul’s loss would prolong; but if you will cleave 
to him, he will stretch forth your days to an uncircumscribed 
comfort, and to his own glory: to the which glory God bring 
me now, and you hereafter when it shall please him to call you. 
Farewell once again, my beloved sister, and put your only trust 
in God, who only must help you. Amen. 

“ Your loving sister, 

“Jane Dudley.” 

This letter was written in the evening of the eleventh of 
February, 1554, N. S., and on the following morning she was 
led to execution. Before she left her apartment she had beheld 
from a window the passage of her husband to the scaffold, and 
the return of his mangled corpse. She then sat down, and wrote 
in her tablets three short passages, in as many languages. The 
first, in Greek, is thus translated—“ If his slain body shall give 
testimony against me before men, his blessed soul shall render 
an eternal proof of my innocence before God.” The second, 
from the Latin—“ The justice of men took away his body, but 
the divine mercy has preserved his soul.” The third was in 
English—“ If my fault deserved punishment, my youth and my 


LADY JANE GREY. 


163 


imprudence were worthy of excuse; God and posterity will 
show me favour.” This precious relic she gave to the lieute¬ 
nant of the Tower, Sir John Brydges, soon after created Lord 
Chandos. Endeavours had been incessantly used to gain her 
over to the Romish persuasion, and Feckenham embarrassed her 
by his exhortations even to the moment of her death, imme¬ 
diately before which, she took him by the hand, and thanked 
him courteously for his good meaning, but assured him that they 
had caused her more uneasiness than all the terrors of her ap¬ 
proaching fate. Having addressed to those assembled about 
her a short speech, less remarkable for the matter which it con¬ 
tained than for the total absence even of an allusion to her at¬ 
tachment to the reformed church, she was put to death, fortu¬ 
nately by a single stroke of the axe. 


164 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


PIERRE RAMUS. 



MONG the many victims of the massacre 
of Saint Bartholomew was the celebrated 
Pierre de la Ram6e, more generally known 
by the name of Ramus. Born in 1515, in 
a village in Normandy, his parents were of 
the poorest rank; his grandfather being a 
, charbonnier, a calling similar to that of our coal- 
heaver, and his father a labourer. Poverty being 
his consequent inheritance, Ramus was early left 
to his own resources; no sooner, therefore, had he 
attained the age of eight years than he repaired to 
Paris; the difficulty he found there of obtaining com¬ 
mon subsistence soon obliged him to return home: 
another attempt which he afterwards made met with no 
^ better success. Early imbued with a strong love and 
desire for learning, he suffered every misery and privation 
in order to obtain the means necessary for its acquirement. 
Having received a limited aid from one of his uncles, he, for a 
third time, set out for Paris, where, immediately on his arrival, 
he entered the college of Navarre in the capacity of a valet, 
during the day fulfilling every menial task, but devoting his 
nights to his dear and absorbing study. This extreme per¬ 
severance and application, regardless of difficulties, obtained its 
consequent reward; being admitted to the degree of master of 
arts, which he received with all its accompanying scholastic 
honours, he was enabled to devote himself with more intensity 
to study. He, by the opinions which he promulgated in the 
form of a thesis, respecting the philosophy of Aristotle, a doubt 
of whose sovereign authority at that time was considered a pro¬ 
fane and audacious sacrilege, attracted the attention of the 
scholars of the time, and ultimately their enmity. With the 


PIERRE RAMUS. 


165 


uncompromising hardihood of his character, he continued to 
deny the infallibility of the favourite code of philosophy, and 
published, in support of his opinions, two volumes of criticisms 
upon his works. 

Ramus was at first persecuted merely with scholastic virulence, 
but on his further irritating his opponents, a serious accusation 
was brought against him, before the parliament of Paris; and 
to such lengths had the matter gone as to call for the mediation 
of Francis the First. 

Ramus was found guilty, and sentenced, in 1543, to vacate 
his professorship, and his works interdicted throughout the 
kingdom. This severe sentence, however, did not produce the 
effect desired by the Sorbonne, for on the following year he was 
appointed to a professorship in the college of Presles, and, in 
1551, received the further appointment of royal professor of 
philosophy and rhetoric. His opinions had, however, attracted 
the attention and enmity of a more powerful body than that of 
the Sorbonne. To contest the infallibility of Aristotle, at the 
same time that it attacked scholastic prejudices, was sufficient 
to provoke a revolution even in theology. 

The consequence to Ramus was implacable hatred from the 
ecclesiastical body, who seemed intent upon his destruction. 

The persecution of Ramus was carried to such an extent, 
that, according to Bayle, he was “ obliged to conceal himself; 
at the king’s instigation he for some time secreted himself at 
Fontainbleau, where, by the aid of the works he found in the 
royal library, he was v enabled to prosecute his geometrical and 
astronomical studies. On his residence there being discovered, 
he successively concealed himself in different places, thinking 
by that means to evade his relentless persecutors. During his 
absence, his library at Presles was given up to public pillage. 

“ On the proclamation of peace, in the year 1563, between 
Charles the Ninth and the Protestants, Ramus returned to his 
professorship, devoting himself principally to the teaching of 
mathematics. On the breaking out of the second civil war, in 
1567, he was again obliged to quit Paris, and seek protection 
in the Huguenot camp, where he remained until the battle of 
St. Denis. A few months after this, on peace being again pro¬ 
claimed, he once more returned to his professional duties; but 
foreseeing the inevitable approach of another war, and fearing 


166 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


the consequent result, he sued for the king’s permission of 
absence, under the plea of visiting the German academies, which 
being granted, he retired to Germany, in 1568, where he was 
received with every demonstration of honour. Ramus returned 
to France on the conclusion of the third war, in 1571, and 
perished in the hideous massacre of St. Bartholomew, as related 
by Moreri.” 

The following is the passage in Moreri, alluded to by Bayle:— 
“Ramus having concealed himself during the tumult of the 
massacre, he was discovered by the assassins sent by Charpen- 
tier, his competitor. After having paid a large sum of money, 
in the hopes of bribing his assassins to preserve his life, he was 
severely wounded, and thrown from the window into the court 
beneath; partly in consequence of the wounds received and the 
effects of the fall, his bowels protruded. The scholars, en¬ 
couraged by the presence of their professors, no sooner saw 
this than they tore them from the body, and scattered them in 
the street, along which they dragged the body, beating it with 
rods by way of contempt.” 

We cannot feel surprised at Ramus becoming one of the prin¬ 
cipal victims of this horrid massacre. By the means of so many 
foul and horrid murders the Catholic party had hoped to anni- 
nilate protestantism in France, or at least so to weaken its in¬ 
fluence as to render its party powerless. We can easily conceive 
the reason why a man who, by the tendency and boldness of 
his opinions, had become one of the powerful supporters of the 
Huguenot party, as well as one of its most powerful and per¬ 
suasive orators, should not be spared; but we are astonished 
and horrified when we see the effects of political or religious 
fanaticism falling on the poor and the simple, the meek and the 
peaceful women and children, the young and the beautiful,— 
all suffering equally with the strong and the powerful, the proud 
and the talented. 

One of the great subjects of reform attempted by Ramus, 
and which created the greatest animosity against him, was that 
which had for its object the introduction of a democratical 
government into the church. He pretended that the consistories 
alone ought to prepare all questions of doctrine, and submit 
them to the judgment of the faithful. The people, according 
to his tenets, possessed in themselves the right of choosing their 


PIERRE RAMUS. 


167 


ministers, of excommunication, and absolution. We quote these 
opinions, inculcated by Ramus, to show in what spirit of contra¬ 
diction his opinions were with the prevailing faith of the six¬ 
teenth century. It is a subject of much too deep and serious 
a character to discuss here. The private life of Ramus was 
most irreproachable; entirely devoting himself to study and 
research, he refused the most lucrative preferments, choosing 
rather the situation of professor at the college of Presles. His 
temperance was exemplary: except a little bouilli, he ate little 
else for dinner. For twenty years he had not tasted wine, and 
afterwards when he partook of it, it was by the order of his 
physicians. His bed was of straw; he rose early, and studied 
late; he was never known to foster an evil passion of any kind; 
he possessed the greatest firmness under misfortune. His only 
reproach was his obstinacy, but every man who is strongly 
attached to his conviction is subject to this reproach. 


168 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JOHN MILTON. 



T may appear singular that of Milton’s early 
life we have hut a few meagre items. Such 
is the case. He was horn in Bread street, 
London, December 9, 1608, and at an early 
period enjoyed the advantages of a good edu¬ 
cation. This is to be ascribed chiefly to the 
character of his father, who possessed an ar¬ 
dent love of knowledge, a fine taste, and a con¬ 
siderable knowledge of music. Milton’s first 
teacher was Thomas Young, a Puritan, who was 
afterwards chaplain to the English merchants at 
Hamburg. He next entered St. Paul’s school, and 
afterwards Christ College, at Cambridge, where he 
studied the highest branches of learning. At the age 
of twenty-four, he took the degree of master of arts, 
quitted Cambridge, having, while there, given evidence 
of poetic genius as well as industry and general talent. The 
next five years of his life were spent on his father’s estate,. 
in Buckinghamshire, where he studied the ancient classics 
and the great works of European literature. This was, 
perhaps, the golden period of Milton’s life. Amid the varying 
beauties of rural scenery, he indulged and developed the powers 
of his intellect, and imbibed that ardent love for the beauties of 
nature, which was afterwards displayed in the noble imagery of 
Paradise Lost. Then he composed the Mask of Comus, founded, 
it is said, on an incident in the life of Lady ^lice Egerton, by 
whom, with the assistance of her brothers, it was performed at 
Ludlow Castle, on Michaelmas eve, 1634. Here, also, were 
composed Lycidas, Arcades, L’Allegro, and II Penseroso— 
poems whose expressions and thoughts have become household 
words in every land where the English language is spoken. 

In 1638, Milton obtained his father’s consent to visit Europe. 


JOHN MILTON. 


169 


On reaching Paris, he was introduced by Lord Sendamore to 
the celebrated Grotius, then ambassador from Christina, Queen 
of Sweden. But to a mind like his the French capital could 
have but few attractions, and, after a brief stay, he again pro¬ 
ceeded to the south. Nice, Genoa, Pisa, and Florence were 
successively visited. The language and manners of the Flo¬ 
rentines, and the circle of their literary men, to whom he was 
introduced, excited Milton’s liveliest admiration. An impres¬ 
sion equally deep, hut of a more melancholy nature, was occa¬ 
sioned by a sight of Rome. There, also, his fame as a poet had 
preceded him. He was welcomed as a brother by the learned, 
and derived high gratification from the rich stores of classical 
learning which were thrown open to him in the Vatican. 

These flattering prospects were clouded by news from home* 
His native country was on the brink of the first civil war—that 
great revolution in which the English people battled against 
bigotry, superstition, and intolerance, for those privileges which 
nothing can wrest from man but the injustice of his fellow-man* 
Milton was a republican; he felt and lamented the miseries of 
his country, and he looked forward to the coming contest be¬ 
tween the two great parties with deep emotion. When on the 
point of embarking for Sicily, he learned that the contest had 
begun. He at once abandoned his plans of personal gratifica¬ 
tion, and resolved to return to England, « deeming it,” says 
his nephew, “ a thing unworthy of him to be diverting himself 
in security abroad, w r hen his countrymen were contending with 
an insidious monarch for their liberty.” After an absence of 
fifteen months, he arrived in England, about the time that 
Charles I. was setting out on his second expedition against the 
Scots. For a while he instructed the children of a few of his 
friends, engaging his leisure hours in the production of works 
tending to promote the republican cause. One of the most 
important of these was his vindicating the freedom of the press, 
by which he drew upon himself the united hatred of a tyran¬ 
nical king, of the loyalists in parliament, and of the cruel 
emissaries of the star-chamber. He escaped the consequences 
of his boldness, and was soon permitted to see the triumph of 
his party, the destruction of the star-chamber, and the death 
.of the English king. 

Before describing the labours and sufferings of Milton in the 
22 P 


170 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


cause of liberty, it may not be inappropriate to glance at some 
events of his domestic life. That he had the most pure and 
elevated ideas of the marriage state, no one, who has read the 
Paradise Lost, is ignorant. It is a mournful fact, that he was 
never permitted to realize those ideas. At the age of thirty- 
five, he married his first wife, Mary, the daughter of a wealthy 
royalist and justice of the peace in Oxfordshire. The circum¬ 
stances which led to the union are not known. After being a 
month with her husband, the bride requested and obtained per¬ 
mission to spend the remainder of the summer with her rela¬ 
tives. Michaelmas was fixed upon for her return. She still 
remained, however, refusing to answer Milton’s letters, and 
treating his messenger with contempt. Incensed at this con¬ 
duct, Milton declared that he no longer regarded her as his 
wife, and soon afterwards published his rigorous and too partial 
work on the Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce. Time caused 
the banished one to repent her conduct, and, on hearing of 
Milton’s intention to visit a common friend, she suddenly ap¬ 
peared before him, threw herself at his feet, and begged for¬ 
giveness. A cordial reconciliation took place, and the poet 
afterwards received her family into his own house. In this 
transaction, we should not condemn the lady’s conduct too 
harshly. The merits of her disaffection are not well known; 
but it is certain that she was influenced principally by her 
friends. One fact is clear—she was no suitable wife for Milton. 

Meanwhile, the poet published his “ Treatise on Education,” 
in whieh he condemns the method of confining the studies of 
youth to one or two dead languages. In 1649, an event oc¬ 
curred which has been the occasion of much censure to Milton, 
and for which a great party, even at the present day, condemn 
his political career. This was the death of Charles I. Though 
Milton seems to have approved of that act, he was in no way 
implicated in it; but, becoming disgusted with many who openly 
lamented it, while really rejoicing, he published his “ Tenure 
of Kings and Magistrates,” which, as he observes, “ was not 
published till after the death of the king, and was written 
rather to tranquillize the minds of men, than to discuss any 
part of the question respecting Charles—a question the deci¬ 
sion of which belonged to the magistrate, and not to me, and 
which had now received its final determination.” Soon after 


JOHN MILTON. 


171 


he became Latin secretary of state to Cromwell. At that 
time appeared a book called EikonBasilike, “ The Royal Image.” 
It professed to be a series of meditations drawn up by Charles 
during his captivity. Its effect was powerful. Fifty thousand 
copies were sold in a few months. All classes denounced the 
new government as guilty of the darkest crimes in their treat¬ 
ment of the royal martyr. To counteract this dangerous influ¬ 
ence, Milton drew up a commentary entitled Eiconoclastes, or 
“ Image Breaker.” Of course, as the popular feeling then was, 
the success of this commentary could be only partial. Not 
long after (1651) appeared his “Defence of the People of Eng¬ 
land,” in reply to a work of Salmasius of Leyden, a tool of 
Charles’s son. The reception of this work in all the countries 
of Christendom astonished Milton himself. The most eminent 
men of Europe hastened to present to him their encomiums. 
Queen Christina of Sweden specially marked her admiration 
of it. It w r as translated into Dutch for the benefit of the coun¬ 
trymen of Salmasius, but much to his own annoyance. Mean¬ 
while, it was publicly burned at Paris and Toulouse. This De¬ 
fence completely accomplished the purpose for which it was 
written ; and Salmasius, after labouring in vain to produce an 
answer, died in 1653, the victim, as is supposed, of wounded 
pride. 

On the 2d of May, 1652, Milton’s first wife died, leaving 
him with three daughters, the youngest a new-born babe; and, 
to add to this affliction, the approach of blindness, which had 
long been dreaded, became rapid and inevitable. But he did 
not repine. It was while studying and writing in defence of 
liberty that his eye-sight first failed, and he regarded it more 
as a sacrifice in that great cause than as subject of lamentation. 
When taunted by the heartless scoffers of that age, he replied, 
u It is not miserable to be blind. He only is miserable who 
cannot acquiesce in his blindness with fortitude ; and why 
should I repine at a calamity which every man’s mind ought to 
be so prepared and disciplined for as to be able to undergo with 
patience—a calamity to which every man, by the condition of 
his nature, is liable, and which I know to have been the lot of 
some of the greatest and best of my species.” The same calm¬ 
ness and Christian dignity breathe through the sonnet upon his 
blindness. His strength of mind and natural cheerfulness, 


172 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


modified by his unwavering confidence in an all-wise Providence, 
were superior to every accident and to every misfortune. He 
still continued to dictate the most important correspondence of 
the commonwealth; he took an active share in Cromwell’s 
foreign policy ; he stayed the sword of Romish persecution in 
Piedmont, and caused even the Vatican to respect for a few 
years the rights of conscience; he conducted the correspond¬ 
ence which set at defiance the haughty bigotry of Spain. Even 
while engaged in these severe duties, he found time to follow his 
favourite literary pursuits. The principal of these were a 
Latin Dictionary, a History of England, and one other work, 
which will be mentioned hereafter. Meanwhile, he married his 
second wife, Catherine, the daughter of Captain Woodcock, a 
zealous republican. Within a year she gave birth to a child, 
and soon after both died. It was to her memory that the poet 
dedicated the sonnet in which he represents “ his late espoused 
saint” coming to him in such an appearance as afterwards he 
“ trusted to have full sight of in heaven.” 

After the Restoration, Milton was discharged from the office 
of Latin secretary. During the first outburst of loyal revenge, 
he secreted himself in a house at St. Bartholomew Close, while 
his friends spread a report of his death, and followed in mourn¬ 
ful procession his fictitious corpse to the grave. After the 
scheme was discovered, the attorney-general was directed to 
commence a prosecution against him ; and his two books, the 
Eiconoclastes and the Defence of the People, w r ere consigned 
to the flames. He was included in the general act of oblivion; 
but, on leaving his retirement, was arrested by parliament. He 
escaped their resentment by the payment of costly fees, and 
retired to his humble home, never again to mingle in the affairs 
of state. 

And now, cut off from society by the hatred of shameless 
enemies, and from outward communion with nature through the 
dearest of all the senses, worn down in the service of an un¬ 
grateful people, poor, despised, insulted, Milton retired to the 
humble dwelling where his future life was to be one dark, un¬ 
interrupted struggle with privation and sorrow. Other men 
would have employed that period in mourning for a few short 
months, and then sinking heart-broken into the grave. Milton 
employed it in writing Paradise Lost. 


JOHN MILTON. 


173 


It appears that very early in life he had formed the design 
of writing an epic poem. His first subject had been drawn 
from the life of King Arthur; but his deep religious feelings 
and his intimate acquaintance with the beauties of the holy 
Scriptures, at length decided his choice. Paradise Lost was 
begun about two years before the Restoration, and finished three 
years after that event. It seems curious that the much larger 
portion of it was written during the winter seasons. Unable 
to write himself, the poet was obliged to compose and retain in 
his memory the successive passages until he could obtain some 
one to write them down. It might be supposed that, in this 
privilege, his daughters would vie with each other; but they 
treated him with cruel neglect, and the poet was obliged to de¬ 
pend in a great measure upon' the kindness of strangers. His 
youngest daughter atoned in some measure for her sisters’ con¬ 
duct. She read to her father, solaced his lonely hours, and 
often assisted in penning his immortal words. In consequence, 
perhaps, of his loneliness, the poet entered for the third time 
into the matrimonial relation—a step which must strike us as 
rather strange under the circumstance. At the age of fifty- 
four he married Elizabeth Minshall, the daughter of a gentle¬ 
man of Cheshire. She proved an amiable companion, and con¬ 
tributed much to solace the remaining years of her husband’s 
life. Amid the quiet seclusion of his little family, Milton de¬ 
voted all his energies to his poem. The remembrances of hap¬ 
pier days, the scenes of Rome, Florence, and Naples, the ex¬ 
tensive parks and quiet lawns of his own country, the hurry of 
political life, and the dissolute revel, which surrounded his later 
days, were all made sources of some image or description. It 
appears from Milton’s writings, that, on some occasions, he be¬ 
lieved himself actually inspired, and, before we smile at such an 
opinion as presumptuous, it might be well to peruse afresh his 
descriptions of the spirit world, and of that state of primitive 
innocence for which the unhappy poet so ardently longed. 
These are treated with majesty and solemnity, at which criti¬ 
cism is awe-struck, while the flow of noblest harmony seems to 
be not the voice of human genius, but the song of the seraphs 
whose devotions it records. 

The Paradise Lost was published in 1665. When prepared 
for the press, it narrowly escaped suppression through the 

r 2 


174 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


bigotry of the licenser, Thomas Tomkins, to whose judgment it 
had been committed, and who was, of course, prepared to de¬ 
tect treason in every line. For the first edition Milton re¬ 
ceived five pounds, and a stipulation of fifteen pounds more 
if it should reach a third edition ! Its sale was tolerably rapid, 
and, notwithstanding the false taste of the literary men of that 
age, it met with much admiration. But it triumphed over bad 
taste and worse criticism, prejudice, and bigotry; and now the 
great of all nations rank the poor blind bard of England with 
the few mighty intellects, which, either in ancient or modern 
times, have, in the highest department of literature, won for 
themselves immortality. 

In 1670, appeared Paradise Regained, and about the same 
time, Samson Agonistes. Previous to this, the office of Latin 
secretary had been tendered him by Charles II.; but it was 
promptly declined, and the contemptuous manner in which he 
was afterwards treated by the royalists, shows they had not 
abated any portion of their malice toward him. The following 
anecdote, which is believed authentic, will serve to illustrate 
this opinion. The Duke of York, brother to the king, and 
afterwards his successor, expressed to Charles his desire to see 
“ old Milton.” The request was, of course, granted, and 
James was introduced to the great poet* A free conversation 
ensued, during which the duke asked Milton if he did not re¬ 
gard the loss of his eye-sight as a judgment for what he had 
written against the late king. “If your highness,” answered 
Milton, “ thinks that the calamities which befal us here are in¬ 
dications of the wrath of heaven, in what manner are we to 
account for the fate of the king, your father ?” The duke left 
him. At the next interview of the j'oyal brothers, James ex¬ 
horted the king to have Milton hanged. “ Why,” answered 
Charles, “is he not old, poor, and blind?” “Yes.” “ Then 
hanging him would be doing him a service; it will be taking 
him out of his miseries; now he is miserable enough, and by 
all means let him live.” 

During the great plague in 1665, a young man named 
Ellwood, who had studied under Milton, displayed his gratitude 
toward the poet by removing him to a pleasant cottage at Chal- 
font, in Buckinghamshire. It was during the same year, as 
has already been mentioned, that the first edition of his great 


JOHN MILTON. 


175 


poem appeared; but, before a second was called for, the author was 
numbered with the dead. “ With a dissolution so easy that it was 
unperceived by the persons in his bed-chamber, he closed a life 
clouded, indeed, by uncommon and various calamities, yet en¬ 
nobled by the constant exercise of such rare endowments as 
render his name, perhaps, the very first in that radiant and 
comprehensive list of which England has reason to be proud.” 
His remains were followed to their resting-place in St. Giles’s 
church, Cripplegate, by a large concourse, including many of 
the wealthiest and most learned individuals of London. A fine 
monument was subsequently raised to his memory by the mu¬ 
nificence of a private individual. 

In this sketch of Milton’s life, we have enumerated only 
those works in prose and in verse on which his fame as a lite¬ 
rary man is founded. It is not our place to enter into an ex¬ 
amination of these ; but rather to show how, as a Christian, 
the great poet is entitled to our veneration. He is generally 
accused of harshness of temper, and a fondness for rancor¬ 
ous disputation. Sometimes he has transgressed on these 
points; but, in that age, he who could have taken part in the 
defence of liberty without transgressing, must have been more 
than man. Then the great battle was fought which involved 
in its shock the liberty, the dearest rights, perhaps national 
existence, of the English people. He who led either party, had 
need of a commanding voice, and of an inflexibility of purpose 
which would stop at no half-way measures. Such was Milton’s 
character; and his very errors should be regarded with kind¬ 
ness and indulgence. But, in domestic life, he was the 
kind father, the affectionate husband; in religious life, he was 
the humble follower of Jesus. He rose at four in the summer 
months, and at five in winter. Two hours were devoted to 
hearing the Scripture and to private meditation and devotion; 
his meals were short and temperate ; and the remaining portion 
of the day, with the exception of other devotional duties and 
of occasional relaxation on the organ, was given to study. So 
rigid was his economy of time, that it may be said with truth, 
that few men ever lived longer than he, although he died at the 
age of sixty-six. 


176 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ULRIC ZWINGLE. 



WINGLE was born at Wildhaus, on Lake Zu¬ 
rich, January .1, 1484. His father had raised 
himself from a peasant to the chief magistracy 
[l of the district, and determined, when his son 
was quite young, to give him a learned edu¬ 
cation. Until ten years old, Ulric was edu¬ 
cated by an uncle; afterward, he was taught 
at Basil, and then at Berne. Here, while stu¬ 
dying poetry and belles-lettres, he evinced such 
talent that the Dominicans endeavoured to draw 
him into their convent. His father opposed this, 
and ordered him to Vienna. Here, during two 
years, he studied philosophy. When returning to 
Basil, he entered upon a theological course under 
Thomas Wittembach. At the age of eighteen he be¬ 
came a teacher, and, in the four ensuing years, taught 
and studied with so much assiduity that he was created master 
of arts. He first preached at Rapersville, was soon after 
ordained priest, and became pastor of the town of Glaris. 

Zwingle now devoted himself to the study of the Scrip¬ 
tures, examining and elucidating them by the ancient fa¬ 
thers. Yet the Bible was to him a sealed book; and he 
seems to have clung to the errors of popery with blind tena¬ 
city, until, out of mere curiosity, he commenced the reading of 
Wiclif’s writings and those of the Bohemian reformers. He 
perceived that those men, though denounced as heretics, were 
actually moral and pious ; that their doctrines were scriptural; 
and that they were right in pronouncing the Romish church 
corrupt, the clergy ignorant and licentious. Every day his 
personal observation convinced him that the power which he 
had formerly regarded as supremely good, was sunk in corrup- 


ULRIC ZWINGLE. 


177 


tion and wickedness, and that it oppressed the souls of those 
whom it professed to make fit for the kingdom of heaven. But, 
as yet, Zwingle had no intention of being a reformer; and, 
during his ten years’ labour at Glaris, he confined himself to 
instructing his own congregation in the word of God and the 
practice of piety. Even in this comparatively humble occupa¬ 
tion, he excited the jealousy of Rome, and was accused of dwelling 
on the necessity of a holy life rather than the merits of fasts, 
miracles, pilgrimages, relics, and indulgences. While the dis¬ 
content of many was ripe against him, he was ordered by go¬ 
vernment to attend the Swiss soldiers to Italy as chaplain dur¬ 
ing their wars in favour of the pope against the French. Zwin¬ 
gle obeyed with reluctance. His countrymen were defeated at 
Marignano, and the chaplain seized the occasion to advise his 
government against the practice of hiring out their troops to 
foreign masters. In his letter we find the germ of his future 
opposition to popery; but at the time it gained him few friends 
and many enemies. 

On returning from Italy, (1516,) Zwingle accepted the offer 
of the Baron of Geroldseck, to become abb6 in the convent of 
Einseindeln. Here he laboured to extend the truth which he 
had discovered. His patron, Baron Theobald, was among his 
first converts, and soon after was abolished the inscription over 
the entrance of the abbey, “ Here plenary remission of all 
sins is obtained,” together with the relics and images. He re¬ 
formed the convent, permitted the nuns to return to the world 
if they chose, and endeavoured to convince the pilgrims who 
visited the abbey that bodily afflictions and performances did 
not entitle them to the approbation of God. These steps were 
the prelude to one more important. On the anniversary of the 
consecration of the abbey, the fearless priest proclaimed to the 
assembled crowds that, without a change of heart, none could 
be saved ; that adoration of images and of the queen of heaven 
was sacrilege; that Jesus Christ was the sole mediator between 
God and man. A violent uproar ensued; part of the congre¬ 
gation admired the preacher; part called him a hypocrite. 
The neighbouring monks, finding the revenue of the day less 
than usual, clamoured unanimously against him. Yet Zwingle 
still regarded the Romish church as the true church; and the 
pope and his legate, with a blindness as injurious to their cause 
28 


178 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


as it was unusual, admired the talents of the reformer, and 
endeavoured to win him to their personal service. 

Notwithstanding the efforts of his enemies, Zwingle had se¬ 
cured to himself many friends and extensive popularity. In 
1518, when the cathedral of Zurich was without a preacher, he 
accepted an invitation to supply it. His first step was to lay 
before those who had called him a statement of the plan of 
preaching which he intended to pursue. It was to make Scrip¬ 
ture explain Scripture, and to expound the word of God as it 
had been done by the apostles and earlier fathers. His first 
sermon in the cathedral (January 1, 1519) was in conformity 
with this plan, was similar in substance and style to the con¬ 
secration sermon in the abbey, and, like that sermon, gained 
him both friends and enemies. 

A new event gave a powerful impulse to the Swiss reforma¬ 
tion. A Franciscan monk, Bernardine Samson, entered the 
cantons as a vender of indulgences. At Berne he had great 
success; but, at a small town near Zurich, he was opposed by 
Bullinger, the parish priest. Samson excommunicated him; 
Zwingle denounced the excommunication ; Samson declared 
that he had a special message from the pope to the Zurich Diet. 
When summoned to appear and deliver it, he was proven an 
impostor, and banished the country. His discomfiture enhanced 
the reputation of Zwingle. 

In 1522, some persons were imprisoned for refusing to ob¬ 
serve Lent. Zwingle seized the occasion to publish his tract 
“ On the Observation of Lent,” in which he ridiculed its ob¬ 
servance and declared it an institution of the priests. The 
Bishop of Landenburg requested the council of Zurich to sup¬ 
press such attacks. They declined doing so. Zwingle replied 
to the bishop, censuring in severe language the vices of the 
clergy and their obstinacy in resisting truth. “ I will now tell 
you,” his letter says, “what is the Christianity that I profess, 
and which you endeavour to render suspected. It commands 
men to obey the laws and respect the magistrate; to pay tri¬ 
bute and impositions where they are due ; to rival one another 
only in beneficence ; to support and relieve the indigent; to 
share the griefs of their neighbour, and to regard all mankind 
as brethren. It further requires the Christian to expect salva¬ 
tion from God alone, and Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Mas- 


ULRIC ZWINGLE. 


179 


ter and Saviour, who giveth eternal life to them who believe on 
him.” His writings and his preaching drew upon him the 
odium of being a Lutheran, while parties were so divided that 
violent disputes happened among friends and relatives, in as¬ 
semblies, in the street, in the church during service. Grieved 
at this, Zwingle solicited of the great council a public confer¬ 
ence, where, in presence of the deputies of the Bishop of Con¬ 
stance, he might explain and defend his doctrines. If proved 
in error, he would retract; if triumphant, he asked the protec¬ 
tion of government. The council agreed, and January 29 was 
appointed for the discussion. Meanwhile, the reformer pub¬ 
lished seventy-six propositions as the basis of the discussion, in 
which the axe was laid at the root of papal pretensions. 

At the day appointed the assembly met. The council, the 
nobility, the clergy, the bishop’s deputies, and a crowd of spec¬ 
tators, were present. When the meeting had been opened by 
the burgomaster, Zwingle arose, and stated that, being accused 
of heresy, he was prepared to defend his opinions from Scrip¬ 
ture. Nobody attacked him. An effort was made to postpone 
the subject until December; but Zwingle, setting the Bible be¬ 
fore them, called on any present to make good the charge of 
heresy. At length a minister rose to complain that he had been 
imprisoned by the Bishop of Constance for denying the neces¬ 
sity of worshipping Mary and the saints. Faber, a creature of 
the bishop, replied that, having visited the prisoner and quoted 
many passages of Scripture by which the worship was esta¬ 
blished, he had caused him to retract. Zwingle immediately 
arose, and, after stating that this was one of the subjects in his 
propositions, called on Faber to produce the texts he had quoted 
to the prisoner. Faber concealed his irritation by a torrent of 
authorities from fathers, councils, monks, and miracle-mongers. 
Zwingle demanded the text which authorized image-worship. 
Faber gave a thorough history of miracles, enlivened by addi¬ 
tional flourishes from the fathers. Zwingle replied that fathers, 
councils, and popes had not only erred, but disagreed among 
themselves, while Scripture alone was infallible. Faber ex¬ 
claimed that he would some time prove the propositions of 
Zwingle heretical. “ Prove it now,” cried the reformer. Faber 
sat down. The Lutherans were wild with joy, and, imme¬ 
diately on adjourning the council, published a decree, “ That 


180 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


Zwingle, having neither been convicted of heresy nor refuted, 
should continue to preach the gospel as he had hitherto done; 
that the pastors of Zurich and its territories should rest their 
discourses on the words of Scripture alone, and that both par¬ 
ties should abstain from all personal reflections.” This affair 
gave a great impetus to the reformation. The people began to 
promote the work in their own way. Crucifixes were pulled 
down, images demolished, and the adherents to Rome violently 
denounced. Undecided as to the manner of treating those 
who participated, the council called a second assembly to ex¬ 
amine whether the worship of images was authorized by the 
gospel, and whether the mass ought to be preserved or abolished. 
Nine hundred persons obeyed the call, (October 28, 1523,) and 
the discussion lasted three days. Zwingle triumphed; the 
prisoners were released; image-worship was declared unscrip- 
tural; the mass to be no sacrifice. The council postponed, for 
the present, their opinion respecting a change in the forms of 
worship. The change was effected, without disturbance, in the 
beginning of 1524. Meanwhile, Zwingle had married, and 
about the same time he published several works, among which 
was an exhortation to the Swiss cantons not to impede the re¬ 
formation. This drew upon him the indignation and persecu¬ 
tion of the cantons other than Zurich. That canton steadily 
sustained him. In 1525, the adoration of the host and the 
mass were abolished. On the 13th of April, a white cloth was 
spread over the church-table, and bread and wine placed thereon. 
The account of the institution of the supper w r as read. Zwingle 
exhorted his congregation to examine themselves, and the peo¬ 
ple, for the first time in Switzerland, partook of the Lord’s 
supper in both kinds. Then began the suppression of the mo¬ 
nasteries. The Dominican and the Augustine convents were 
converted into hospitals ; their revenues were appropriated to 
the sick; young monks were put to trades; old ones supported 
by government. A new academy was founded at Zurich, and 
strenuous efforts were made to spread the gospel through Swit¬ 
zerland. 

About this time Zwingle used his efforts to counteract the 
spread of the Anabaptists, who had become numerous in the 
cantons. The Catholics now endeavoured to secure the re¬ 
former’s person by ordering the council of Zurich to send him 


ULRIC ZWINGLE. 


181 


to Baden, under pretence of having a dispute with Dr. Eck. 
Zurich refusing to give him up, he was condemned, his books pro¬ 
hibited, and his adherents excommunicated. The injustice of this 
proceeding opened the eyes of several cantons to the merits of 
popery more than the preaching of Zwingle had done. At a great 
convocation held at Berne, (1527,) the reformed doctrines were 
discussed during eighteen sittings, and a majority of the clergy 
declared for the reformation. Afterwards, their prospects 
were, in some measure, interrupted by Zwingle’s dispute with 
Luther concerning the Lord’s supper, the prospect of civil war, 
and the persecution waged by the Romanists against the sacra- 
mentarians, as the followers of Zwingle were called. The re¬ 
former’s life was.so embittered by these events that he resolved 
to leave Zurich and seek an asylum elsewhere; but the entrea¬ 
ties of both friends and enemies induced him to remain. 

The storm, which had long been gathering over Zurich and 
the other Protestant cantons, burst at last. On the 6th of Octo¬ 
ber, 1531, the Romish cantons took the field, and stationed 
their forces at Cappel. Zurich hastily mustered a handful of 
men, and detached them against the enemy. Zwingle was 
ordered to join them. His friends trembled for his safety. 
“ Our cause is good,” said the reformer, “ but it is ill defended. 
It will cost me my life, and that of a number of excellent men 
who would wish to restore religion to its primitive simplicity 
and our country to its ancient manners. Ho matter. God will 
not abandon his servants ; he will come to their assistance when 
you think all is lost. My confidence rests upon him alone, and 
not upon men. I submit myself to his will.” 

At Cappel the Protestants were attacked with fury, and de¬ 
fended themselves with bravery—overpowered by numbers and 
totally defeated. In the confusion of flight, Zwingle was thrice 
thrown down, but recovered himself. A stroke under the chin 
proved more serious. He sank on his knees, and then on the 
ground, exclaiming, “ Is this a calamity ? They are able to 
kill the body, but they are not able to kill the soul.” After 
lying insensible for some time, he revived, raised himself, and 
directed his eyes upward. Some Catholic soldiers approached; 
among them a confessor. When the latter offered himself, 
Zwingle shook his head. He was asked to dedicate his soul to 
the Virgin, but refused. One of the soldiers ran him through 


182 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


with a sword, exclaiming, “ Die, obstinate heretic.” Next day 
his body was found by some Catholics, and exposed to view of 
the soldiers. An old colleague and opponent of the reformer 
gazed at it with emotion. “ Whatever may have been thy faith,” 
he said, «I am sure that thou wast always sincere, and that 
thou lovedst thy country. May God take thy soul to his 
mercy.” The soldiers clamoured for the burning of the body. 
A self-constituted tribunal acceded; the remains were reduced 
to ashes, and the ashes scattered to the winds. 

Zwingle, at his death, was forty-seven years old. He left a 
number of useful works behind him, and his memory was re¬ 
vered as that of a spiritual and national father. 


SIR HENRY YANE. 


183 


SIR HENRY YANE. 



ANE was a man whose talents would adorn 
any cause and any age. A powerful orator, 
a profound statesman, a courteous gentleman, 
a true Christian, and the untiring champion 
of civil and religious toleration, he moved 
among the great spirits of his day with an 
effect which, while nerving the heart of every 
friend of mankind, struck terror into the ranks 
of tyranny. Yet, like Milton and Cromwell, 
his memory has been blackened by those who, 
blinded by servility and corrupted by vice, were 
unable to comprehend the principles for which he 
contended and suffered; and not till the free spirit 
of our own day had established a standard of im¬ 
partial criticism in political and religious matters, was 
Vane regarded, by the readers of history, in any other 
light than that of a weak enthusiast. 

Henry Vane, the younger, was born in 1612. His ancestors 
were ennobled both by deeds and extraction. His father, called 
the elder Sir Henry, had taken a conspicuous part in the events 
of James’s reign, and was, at his son’s birth, the king’s secretary 
of state. Being placed at Westminster, young Vane abandoned 
himself for a time to the frivolities then practised by the youth 
of that college; but at the age of fourteen, according to his 
confession on the scaffold, “ God was pleased to lay the founda¬ 
tion or groundwork of repentance” in him, “revealing his 
Son in me, for the bringing me home to himself, by his won¬ 
derful rich and free grace; revealing his Son in me, that by the 
knowledge of the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom he 
hath sent, I might, even while here in the body, be made par¬ 
taker of eternal life in the first fruits of it.” About the same 


184 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


time were formed his opinions on civil freedom; so that at an 
age in which the mind of most persons is but unfolding to re¬ 
ceive knowledge, Vane’s had already sketched the outlines of 
character. 

When sixteen years old, Vane became a gentleman commoner 
of Magdalen College, Oxford; but he terminated his member¬ 
ship at the university by refusing to take the oath of allegiance 
and supremacy. Quitting Oxford, he visited the continent, and 
spent some time at Geneva. From that city of free inquiry he 
returned to England, more confirmed in his opinions concerning 
religious tolerance and political freedom. As the age of Bishop 
Laud was not dull in perceiving symptoms of that nature, an 
outcry was speedily made against the young dissenter. Laud 
expostulated with him ; courtiers and divines frowned upon him; 
his father commanded him. Henry, though modest, was firm; 
but unwilling to expose his father to the resentment of a 
government which visited the sins of one relative on another, 
he determined to repair to America. “ I was willing (he said 
afterwards, in a dark and bitter day) to turn my back upon my 
estate; expose myself to hazards in foreign parts; yea, nothing 
seemed difficult to me, so I might preserve faith and a good 
conscience, which I prefer before all things; and do earnestly 
persuade all people rather to suffer the highest contradictions 
from man, than disobey God by contradicting the light of their 
own conscience.” The resolution so suddenly taken, to abandon 
his own country, astonished and irritated his father; but the 
king induced his secretary to consent. He reached Boston in 
the early part of 1635, was welcomed with enthusiasm by all 
classes of people, and on the third of March admitted to the 
freedom of the colony. In the following year he was elected 
governor of Massachusetts. We have elsewhere noticed the 
events which rendered his opponent, Mr. Winthrop, temporarily 
unpopular; yet to Vane the administration was one stormy, 
harassing, and unsuccessful. The whole colony was torn into 
factions; from the first a strong party opposed Vane; and the 
suddenness of his popularity, together with his youth, exposed 
him to the hatred or contempt* of the baser kind. Had no 
other obstacles arisen, those were sufficient to embarrass his 
public acts. But others did arise, of a nature well calculated to 
derange not only politics, but society itself. The principal of 


SIR HENRY VANE. 


185 


these was the Hutchinson controversy, of which an account is 
given in another part of this volume. The part taken in it by 
Vane, will be seen in the sequel. 

The announcement of Vane’s election was received by the 
people with enthusiasm. At this time there were in the port 
fifteen large vessels, a force sufficient to disturb the watchful 
jealousy of our New England fathers; nor was the conduct of 
the crews, when on shore, calculated to overcome prejudice and 
gain esteem. No expedient could be contrived to get rid of 
them, until the young governor, by inviting the captains to a 
repast, and acquainting them in a friendly manner with the 
wishes of the people, obtained their ready assent to terms 
which removed all cause of dispute. Another dispute on a 
matter of mere form—the raising of the king’s flag on the 
fort—was settled on the personal responsibility of the governor, 
who hung out the flag; but as it contained a cross as well as 
the national ensigns, the Puritans were scandalized and a 
new impulse given to the opposition against Vane. But the 
governor’s party was still strong, and his friends enthusiastic; 
so that in July, when he made a friendly tour through the 
towns on the northern and eastern part of the bay, he was 
received with many demonstrations of esteem and affection. 
His return to Boston is marked by the occurrence of the Pequot 
war, which for a time threatened to devastate the colony. Had 
all the neighbouring nations joined the Pequots, such a devas¬ 
tation might have happened ; that they did not, is to be ascribed 
to the efforts of Vane and Roger Williams. Five weeks after 
Endicott’s expedition to Block Island, the Narragansett sachem 
came to Boston on the invitation of the governor, attended by 
twenty-two chiefs. Vane received them not as savages, but as 
human beings; they dined with him, and in the afternoon were 
indulged in a long and friendly conference. It will not be 
hard to surmise the effect of such a reception. They concluded 
an amicable treaty with the governor, and on their return were 
escorted and saluted by a band of soldiers. 

In the summer of this year, Vane received letters from Eng¬ 
land, urging him to return to that country; but he could not 
obtain permission from the council. The troubles of the colony 
were then verging toward a crisis; Mrs. Hutchinson, having 
lately arrived from England, was defending her opinions with a 
24 o 2 


186 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


zeal and talent which demanded all the efforts of her opponents 
to counteract; and. in the violence of the conflict, every other 
interest and feeling was swept away or absorbed. Governor 
Yane could not remain indifferent to a controversy which in¬ 
volved the cause of religious truth. He deplored Mrs. Hutchin¬ 
son’s imprudence, but he believed her to be sincerely pious; he 
believed that she was labouring for religious tolerance, and 
believing so, he espoused her cause. The act drew upon him 
the united opposition of the anti-Hutchinsonians. As the 
yearly election approached, party spirit attained a height such 
as was never dreamed of before; and on the day of voting, the 
grave and austere Puritan could with difficulty be induced to 
keep his hands off his neighbour. The Reverend Mr. Wilson, 
one of the pillars of orthodoxy, after climbing a tree, harangued 
the multitude in a style which at any other time would have 
secured him a seat in the pillory. Yane and all his friends 
were signally defeated. Indignant at this result, the people of 
Boston instantly elected him as their representative at the 
General Court. The dominant part of the assembly declared 
the election void; a new election was held next day; each 
party strained every nerve, and exhausted every effort, and 
Yane was again returned by a triumphant majority. 

When the “most extraordinary” law, forbidding any one to 
harbour an emigrant, was passed, Yane wrote in opposition to 
it; and in reply to Winthrop’s “ Defence of an order of Court 
made in the year 1637,” in his “ Brief Answer,” Yane contends 
that no government can be well founded, unless it be founded in 
accordance with the will of God; that churches have no liberty 
to receive or reject members at their discretion, but at the dis¬ 
cretion of Christ: and that “ heretics” should not be subject to 
the civil power,—“ Ishmael (he says) shall dwell in the presence 
of his brethren.” The controversy lasted until Yane’s return 
to England, in August, 1637. 

On arriving in his native country, Yane married, and retired 
for some time to the seclusion of his paternal seat. Through 
the solicitations of his friends, he was again brought forward 
to public life, and took his seat ii parliament as representative 
of Kingston upon Hull, April 13, 1640. So great was the 
sensation produced among all classes by his appearance, that 
notwithstanding his known opinions, King Charles used every 


SIR HENRY VANE. 


187 


effort to win him to his cause. The crown spoke condescend¬ 
ingly to him 5 the office of navy treasurer was given him, and 
he received the honours of knighthood. But his religion and 
his political opinions were incorruptible. The dissolution of 
parliament found him what he had been at its assembling; and 
when the memorable Long Parliament met, he was confidently 
looked upon as one of the most fearless opponents of oppres¬ 
sion. When the privy council and the star-chamber had been 
swept away, Lord Strafford was brought to trial for treason. 
The history of Vane’s connection with that trial is most curious, 
but no more than a sketch of the principal items can here be 
given. One principle of the privy council—the source of its 
power and of its fall—was entire secresy ; and this was secured 
by the solemn oath of each member. When the Long Parlia¬ 
ment met, Mr. Pym arose in the house of commons, and ac¬ 
cused Strafford of having urged the king to measures unconsti¬ 
tutional, despotic, and treasonous. No one could ascertain 
whence he had obtained his information, since each of the 
council denied having ever broken his oath. When Sir Henry 
Vane the elder, himself a member of the council, was called 
upon for testimony, he confirmed Pyrn’s accusation. As that 
nobleman was the mortal enemy of Strafford, it was believed 
by many that he had betrayed the secret; but this Vane indig¬ 
nantly denied. The trial unravelled the mystery. By accident 
young Vane had obtained the key of a cabinet, in which were 
the proceedings of the council; ignorant of its contents, he 
unlocked it. A paper with Strafford’s advice to the king was 
discovered. Astounded by such an exhibition of political wick¬ 
edness, he invited Pym to examine the paper; Pym did so; the 
paper was replaced in the cabinet, and, without the knowledge 
of the elder Vane, a foundation was laid for the death of his 
rival, and eventually the overthrow of the monarch. 

In the great acts of this parliament—the triennial bill, the 
constitutional settlement of taxation, the destruction of despotic 
courts, the abolition of the king’s prerogative of dissolution— 
Vane was a distinguished participant. When the civil war 
commenced, he was reappointed treasurer of the navy by par¬ 
liament, the crown having deprived him of that office. On 
again resuming his duties, he devoted almost the entire emolu¬ 
ments of the treasury, amounting to between one hundred and 


188 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, to the public service. 
When the power of the king was in the ascendant, and the 
cause of liberty appeared almost lost, an embassy, numbering 
four persons, was sent to solicit a league with the Scotch; of 
that embassy Vane was the soul; it was entirely successful, 
and to its success is owing, perhaps in a principal degree, the 
success,of the republicans. On the 26th of October, Vane re¬ 
turned to England with the “ solemn league and covenant,” 
political and religious, between the Scotch government and the 
parliament. He was afterwards, with Cromwell, the principal 
supporter of the self-denying principle and the new model, the 
acts which inspired the proceedings of parliament with a vigour 
hitherto unknown. On the field of Naseby the army of the 
new model, led by Cromwell and Fairfax, broke the power of 
royalty, and secured the dominance of parliament. 

The victory renewed the old dispute between the Presby¬ 
terians and the Independents, concerning church government. 
The former clamoured against all toleration, the remainder for 
it. Vane and Cromwell led the Independents, and their num¬ 
bers daily increased. The king, with his customary duplicity, 
pledged himself to Vane that he would join that party, and 
assist in “rooting out intolerance;” while at the same time he 
was corresponding with some of his creatures concerning his 
proposed treatment of the rebels. Vane returned no answer. 
During the stormy scenes which followed, he acted with his 
customary wisdom and influence; but when the soldiery, in 
order to obtain a majority favourable to the king’s execution, 
“purged the house” of the Presbyterians, Vane resented the 
act as gross injustice, and retired to private life. In 1649, 
after the king’s death, he resumed his seat, and was made 
chairman of a committee of three, to whom were intrusted the 
affairs of the admiralty and the navy. It was under him that 
the English navy began the continued series of victories which 
has since rendered her a first-rate naval power. He opposed, 
with his whole energy, the encroachments of Cromwell upon the 
parliament; and on that day when the protector dissolved the 
Long Parliament, he was conspicuous in his opposition to the 
measure. 

On again retiring to private life, Vane watched with patriotic 
eye; and the publication by Cromwell of a day of fast, 


SIR HENRY VANE. 


189 


(March 14,• 1656,) for the purpose of “ applying themselves to 
the Lord, to discover the Achan who had so long obstructed the 
settlement of these distracted kingdoms,” afforded him another 
opportunity of speaking for the republic. In his “ Healing Ques¬ 
tion,” he showed in the most satisfactory manner, that the Achan 
was Cromwell himself. For this, Vane was abruptly summoned 
before the council, and, after a tedious trial, or rather mockery 
of trial, was committed to Carisbrook Castle, in the Isle of 
Wight. He was released in December; and from that time 
until Cromwell’s death, in 1658, he wrote several treatises on 
government. On the accession of Richard Cromwell, he was 
re-elected to parliament. The managers of elections gave his 
certificate to another ; again he was returned from Bristol, and 
again rejected ; a third election disappointed his enemies, and 
on the 27th of January, 1659, he resumed his seat. He was 
the uncompromising opponent of Richard’s government; and 
when the Restoration occurred, though aware that his hopes of 
political and religious liberty were disappointed, he came up to 
his house in Hampstead, near London. Besides feeling uncon¬ 
scious “ of having done any thing in relation to public affairs, for 
which he could not willingly and cheerfully suffer, ’ ’ he had received 
from Charles the promise of a merciful indemnity. The promise 
was redeemed, by assigning Yane to the Tower. Both houses, 
however, petitioned the king to spare his life ; and Charles pro¬ 
mised, that if Yane were attainted, the execution might be re¬ 
mitted. During more than two years, he was removed from 
prison to prison, and at length consigned to a solitary castle on 
the island of Scilly. He continued to write, in the spirit of a 
Christian philosopher, various treatises, on government, reli¬ 
gion, life, death, friends, &c.; while, in the mean time, the king 
was using every effort to secure a majority in parliament that 
would consent to his death. In a letter to his wife, he says— 
“ It is no small satisfaction to me in these sharp trials, to expe¬ 
rience the truth of those Christian principles, which God of his 
grace hath afforded you and me the knowledge and emboldened 
us to make the profession of. Have faith and hope, my dearest; 
God’s arm is not shortened; doubtless, great and precious pro¬ 
mises are yet in store to be accomplished, in and upon believers 
here on earth, to the making of Christ admired in them. And 
if we cannot live in the power and actual possession of them, 


190 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


yet if we die in the certain foresight and embracing of them 
by faith, it will be our great blessing. This dark night and 
black shade which God hath drawn over his work in the midst 
of us, may be, for aught we know, the ground colour to some 
beautiful piece that he is now exposing to the light.” 

Soon after the writing of the letter from which this is ex¬ 
tracted, Vane was remanded to the Tower. On the 2d of June, 
lie was brought to trial as a false traitor, &c. The indictment 
charged him with compassing and imagining the death of 
Charles I., of conspiring to subvert the ancient government of 
the realm, of associating with traitors, and like offences. He 
was refused counsel, and asked to plead guilty or not guilty. 
He denied any obligation to plead on the indictment, and in a 
speech of consummate ability, demanded, as a member of par¬ 
liament, a trial before his equals, and the benefit of counsel. 
He was assured that counsel would be granted him, if he con¬ 
sented to plead to the indictment. After long hesitancy, he 
consented, pleading not guilty. He was remanded to prison, 
where he remained four days. When the day of trial came, 
his demand to the judges for counsel was answered by the as¬ 
sertion, that they would be his counsel. The ensuing trial, whe¬ 
ther we consider the shameless injustice of the court, the de¬ 
fence of Vane, or the impression produced upon the people, is 
one of the most remarkable in English annals. The jury, after 
a secret consultation with Vane’s bitter opponent, the solicitor- 
general, returned a verdict of guilty. 

On returning to his cell, Vane was visited by some friends. 
They found him cheerful, although during the ten hours he had 
passed in court he had not tasted any refreshment, and was 
most of the time engaged in intricate argument. After stating 
to them that he had anticipated all which had occurred, Vane 
blessed God that “ he had been strengthened to maintain him¬ 
self at the post which Providence had assigned him; that ar¬ 
guments had been suggested to his mind; that he had not been 
left to overlook any means of defence; that his lips had been 
clothed with more than their usual eloquence; and that by His 
gracious help, he had been enabled to discharge, to his own 
entire satisfaction, the duty he owed to his country, and to the 
liberty of his countrymen. He had spoken that day, as he 
told his judges, not for his own sake only, but for theirs, and 


SIR HENRY VANE. 


191 


for posterity. He had done his best, and his utmost for him¬ 
self, and for his fellow-men; his conscience was discharged, his 
obligations to society were fulfilled, and his mind was therefore 
at peace with itself, at peace with the world, and full of satis¬ 
faction, comfort, and joy.” 

Charles had now an opportunity to redeem his promise. He 
did so, by writing a letter to Clarendon, in which he describes 
Vane as a man “too dangerous to let live, if we can honestly 
put him out of the way.” Clarendon understood him ; and on 
the 11th of June, Vane was brought forward to receive sen¬ 
tence. He stated in a forcible manner many reasons for an 
arrest of judgment, but these were overlooked, and he was sen¬ 
tenced to die on the scaffold. During the short space of three 
days, he prayed with and exhorted his wife and children, who 
were permitted to remain with him. On the fatal morning, he 
kissed his children, and said, “ The Lord bless you—he will he 
a better father to you—I must now forget that ever I knew 
you. * * * Be not you troubled, for I am going home to my 
father.” In his prayer, occurred words almost prophetic. “ I 
die in the certain faith and foresight that this cause shall have 
its resurrection in my death. My blood will be the seed sown, 
by which this glorious cause will spring up, which God will 
speedily raise. * * * As for that glorious cause which God 
hath owned in these nations, and will own, in which so many 
righteous souls have lost their lives, and so many have been en¬ 
gaged by my council and encouragement, shall I now give it up, 
and so declare them all rebels and murderers ? No ; I will 
never do it. That precious blood shall never lie at my door. 
As a testimony and seal to the justness of that quarrel, I leave 
now my life upon it, as a legacy to all the honest interest in 
these three nations. Ten thousand deaths rather than defile my 
conscience, the chastity and purity of which I value beyond 
all this world. I would not for ten thousand lives part with 
this peace and satisfaction I have in my own heart, both in 
holding to the purity of my principles, and to the righteousness 
of this good cause, and to the assurance I have that God is 
now fulfilling all these great and precious promises, in order to 
what he is bringing forth. Although I see it not, yet I die in 
the faith and assured expectation of it.” 

He was drawn to the scaffold on a sled, and everywhere hailed 


192 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


with demonstrations of sympathy by the people. After mount¬ 
ing the scaffold, he attempted to address the crowds, but was 
interrupted by noise of trumpets, the paper snatched from his 
hands, and even his pockets were searched for papers. “ As 
might have been expected, (says Upham in the American Bio¬ 
graphy,) and as the government had most seriously appre¬ 
hended, a great impression had by this time been made by the 
prisoner upon the vast multitude that surrounded him. The 
people remembered his career of inflexible virtue and patriot¬ 
ism. They had been roused to indignation by the treatment 
he had received at the hands of Cromwell, and of the restored 
monarch. His trial had revived the memory of his services 
and sufferings. The fame of his glorious defence had rung far 
and wide through the city and nation. The enthusiasm by 
which he had been welcomed by weeping and admiring thou¬ 
sands, as he passed from prison to Tower Hill; the sight of that 
noble countenance; the serene, and calm, and almost divine 
composure of his deportment; his visible triumph over the fear 
of death, and the malice of his enemies—all these influences, 
brought at once to bear upon their minds, and concentrated and 
heightened by the powers of an eloquence that was the wonder 
of his contemporaries, had produced an effect which it was evi¬ 
dent could not, with safety to the government, be permitted to 
be wrought any higher.” Finding that he could not be heard, 
Vane remarked, “It is a bad cause which cannot bear the 
words of a dying man,” and kneeled down to pray. “ I bless 
the Lord, (were his words,) who hath accounted me worthy to 
suffer for his name. Blessed be the Lord, that I have kept a 
conscience void of offence to this day. I bless the Lord, I have 
not deserted the righteous cause for which I suffer.” “ Father, 
(he said at the block,) glorify thy servant in the sight of men, 
that he may glorify thee in the discharge of his duty to thee, 
and to his country.” With one stroke, the head was severed 
from the body. His death, considered merely as an act of 
policy, was the greatest blunder that the king could have com¬ 
mitted ; and it gave the Stuart dynasty a shock from which it 
never recovered. 


JOHN KNOX. 


193 


JOHN KNOX. 



NOX, the son of obscure parents, was born 
in 1505; there is some doubt respecting his 
birthplace, which was probably the village of 
Gifford, in East Lothian, although it has been 
asserted that he was born at Haddington. 
Ilis education was more liberal than was then 
common. In his youth, he was put to the 
grammar school at Haddington, and about 1524, 
removed to the University of St. Andrew’s, 
where the learning principally taught was the phi¬ 
losophy of Aristotle, scholastic theology, civil and 
canon law, and the Latin language; Greek and 
Hebrew were at that time little understood in Scot¬ 
land, and Knox did not acquire the knowledge of them 
until somewhat later in his life. “ After he was cre¬ 
ated master of arts, he taught philosophy, most proba¬ 
bly as an assistant or private lecturer in the university, and his 
class became celebrated.” “ He was ordained a priest before 
he reached the age fixed by the canons of the church, which 
must have taken place previous to the year 1530, at which time 
he had attained his twenty-fifth year, the canonical age for 
receiving ordination.”* His first instruction in theology was 
received from John Major, the professor of theology in the uni¬ 
versity, but the opinions founded upon it were not long retained; 
the writings of Jerome and Augustin attracted his attention, 
and the examination of them led to a complete revolution in his 
sentiments. It was about the year 1535 that his secession from 
Roman Catholic doctrines and discipline commenced, but he 
did not declare himself a Protestant until 1542. 

The reformed doctrines had made considerable progress in 


26 


* M‘Crie’s Life, vol. i. p. 12. 
R 




194 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


Scotland before this time. Knox was not the first reformer; 
there were many persons, “ earls, barons, gentlemen, honest 
burgesses, and craftsmen,” who already professed the new creed, 
though they durst not avow it; it was to the avowal, extension, 
and establishment of the reformed religion that his zeal and 
knowledge so powerfully contributed. His reprehension of the 
prevalent corruptions made him regarded as a heretic; for 
which reason he could not safely remain in St. Andrew’s, which 
was wholly in the power of Cardinal Beaton, a determined sup¬ 
porter of the church of Rome, and he retired to the south of 
Scotland, where he avowed his apostasy. He was condemned 
as a heretic, degraded from the priesthood, and it is said by 
Beza that Beaton employed assassins to waylay him. He now 
for a time frequented the preaching of the reformed teachers, 
Williams and Wishart, who gave additional strength to opinions 
already pretty firmly rooted; and having relinquished all 
thoughts of officiating in the Roman Catholic church, he became 
tutor to the sons of Hugh Douglas, of Langniddrie, a gentle¬ 
man of East Lothian, who had embraced the reformed doctrines. 
After the murder of Cardinal Beaton, Knox removed with his 
pupils from Langniddrie to St. Andrew’s, (1547,) where he con¬ 
ducted their education in his accustomed manner, catechising 
and reading to them in the church belonging to the city. There 
were many hearers of these instructions, who urged him, and 
finally called upon him to become a public preacher. Diffident 
and reluctant at first, upon consideration he consented to their 
request. In his preaching, far more than the reformed teach¬ 
ers who had preceded him, he struck at the very foundations 
of popery, and challenged his opponents to argument, to be 
delivered either in writing or from the pulpit, and so successful 
were his labours, that many of the inhabitants were converted 
to his doctrines. 

It was not long before an event took place, by which his 
efforts received a temporary check. The murder of Cardinal 
Beaton had given great offence, and created great excitement 
through the kingdom. It was a severe blow to the Roman 
Catholic religion and the French interest in Scotland, both of 
which he had zealously supported, and vengeance was loudly 
called for upon the conspirators by whom he had been murdered. 
These conspirators had fortified St. Andrew’s, and the art of 


JOHN KNOX. 


195 


attacking fortified places was then so imperfectly understood 
in Scotland, that for five months they resisted the efforts of 
Arran, the regent. From their long wars in Italy and Ger¬ 
many, the French had become as experienced in the conduct of 
sieges as the Scotch were ignorant. The French were allies of 
Scotland; to France, therefore, Arran sent for assistance. 
About the end of June, 1547, a French fleet, with a consider¬ 
able body of land forces, appeared before the town.* The gar¬ 
rison capitulated, and Knox, among many others, was taken 
prisoner, and conveyed to Rouen, where he was confined on 
board the galleys. After nineteen months’ close imprisonment, 
he was liberated, with his health greatly injured by the rigour 
with which he had been treated, (1549.) Knox now repaired 
to England, and though he had never received ordination as a 
Protestant, Cranmer did not hesitate to send him from London 
to preach in Berwick. In Berwick and the north of England 
he followed his arduous undertaking of conversion until 1551, 
when he was made one of King Edward’s chaplains, with a 
salary of 40 1. a year. While his friends in the English adminis¬ 
tration offered him further preferment, which he declined, his 
enemies brought charges against him before the council, of 
which he was soon afterwards acquitted. He was in London 
at the time of Edward’s death, but thought it prudent to fly the 
kingdom as soon as Mary's policy towards the Protestants be¬ 
came apparent. In January, 1554, he landed at Dieppe; from 
Dieppe he went to Geneva; and from Geneva to Frankfort, 
where Calvin requested him to take charge of a congregation 
of English refugees. In consequence of some disputes, he 
returned from Frankfort to Geneva, and, after a few months* 
residence there, to Scotland, where he again zealously promul¬ 
gated his doctrines. The English congregation at Geneva 
having appointed him their preacher, he thought right to 
make another journey to the continent, (1556,) which he quit¬ 
ted finally in 1559. During these, the quietest years of his 
life, he published “ The First Blast of the Trumpet against the 
Monstrous Regiment of Women,” in which he vehemently 
attacked the admission of females to the government of nations. 
Its first sentence runs thus: “ To promote a woman to bear 


* Robertson vol. i. 314. 





196 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


rule, superiority, dominion, or empire above any realm, nation, 
or city, is repugnant to nature, contumely to God, a thing most 
contrarious to his revealed will and approved ordinance, and 
finally it is the subversion of all equity and justice.” This 
inflammatory composition, as might have been expected, excited 
fresh hostility against its author. At the time of its publica¬ 
tion, both England and Scotland were governed by females; 
Mary of Guise, the queen-dowager of Scotland, was likewise 
regent of that kingdom, while the Princess Mary was heiress 
of its throne: and in England Mary was queen, and her sister 
Elizabeth the next in succession to the crown. It hardly ad¬ 
mits of wonder then that when, in 1559, Knox was desirous of 
returning to England, Queen Elizabeth’s ministers would not 
permit him to do so, and he was compelled to land at Leith. 

The Protestants in Scotland were by this time nearly equal 
to the Roman Catholics, both in power and in number; but 
their condition had lately been changed somewhat for the worse. 
The queen-regent, who, from motives of policy, had found it 
desirable to conciliate and uphold them, from similar motives 
had become their opponent and oppressor ; and many of the 
preachers of the « Congregation” (the name by which the body 
of Protestants was then called) were summoned for various 
causes to take their trial. It was on a day not long previous 
to these trials that Knox returned to his country to resume the 
labours of his ministry. Hearing of the condition of his asso¬ 
ciates, “he hurried instantly,” says Robertson, i. 375, “to Perth, 
to share with his brethren in the common danger, or to assist 
them in the common cause. While their minds were in that 
ferment, which the queen’s perfidiousness (she had broken a 
promise to stop the trial) and their own danger occasioned, he 
mounted the pulpit, and, by a vehement harangue against idola¬ 
try, inflamed the multitude with the utmost rage.” The indis¬ 
cretion of a priest, who, immediately after Knox’s sermon, was 
preparing to celebrate mass, caused a violent tumult. The 
churches in the city were broken open, altars were overturned, 
pictures defaced, images destroyed, and the monasteries levelled 
with the ground. The insurrection, which was not the effect 
of any concert or previous deliberation, was censured by the 
reformed preachers; and it affixes no blame to the character of 
Knox. The queen-regent sent troops to quell this rebellion; 


JOHN KNOX. 197 

troops were also raised by the Protestants, but a treaty was 
entered into before any blood was shed. 

The promotion of the Reformation in his own country was 
now Knox’s sole object; he was reinstated in his pulpit at 
St. Andrew’s, and preached there in his usual rough, vehement, 
zealous, and powerful manner, until the lords of the Congrega¬ 
tion took possession of Edinburgh, where he was immediately 
chosen minister. His efforts gave great offence and alarm to 
the Roman Catholic clergy, especially during a circuit that he 
made of Scotland. Armies were maintained and sent into the 
field by both parties, for treaties were no sooner made than they 
were violated; French troops again came to succour the Roman 
Catholic clergy; and to oppose them, Knox entered into cor¬ 
respondence with Cecil, and obtained for his party the assist¬ 
ance of some forces from England. The. “ Congregation,” how¬ 
ever, had many difficulties and disasters to struggle with. A 
messenger, whom they had sent to receive a remittance of mo¬ 
ney from the English, was intercepted and rifled; their soldiers 
mutinied for want of pay, their numbers decreased, and their 
arms w r ere unsuccessful. Under these circumstances, it required 
all the zeal and the courage of Knox to sustain the animation 
of his dispirited colleagues; his addresses from the pulpit were 
continual and persevering. As the treaty by which the civil 
war w’as concluded made no settlement in religion, the reformers 
found no fresh obstacle to the continuance of their efforts; and 
Knox resumed his office of minister in Edinburgh. In this year, 
(1560,) the queen-regent died, and in the following, Queen Mary 
took possession of the throne of Scotland; her religious opinions 
were Roman Catholic, but she employed Protestant counsellors. 
The preaching of Knox and his denunciations of her religious 
practice attracted her attention. At different times, he had 
interviews with her, (which at first gave rise to much specula¬ 
tion,) but neither her artifices produced much effect, nor his 
arguments; so stern was he, and so rough in his rebukes, that 
he once drove her into tears. At her instigation, Knox was 
accused of treason, and was tried, but the whole convention of 
counsellors, excepting the immediate dependants of the court, 
pronounced that he had not been guilty of any breach of the 
laws, (1563.) 

Knox continued his exertions with difficulties of different 
e 2 


198 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


kinds constantly besetting him. At one time he was prohibited 
from preaching, at another he was refused entrance into Edin¬ 
burgh after a temporary absence; but, on the whole, his influ¬ 
ence was little impaired, and his opposition to popery successful. 
His health, however, was affected by continual exertion: in 
1570, he was struck with apoplexy, from which he so far reco¬ 
vered as to renew his labours for more than a year; but in 1572 
his exhausted constitution gave way, and he died on the 24th 
of November. He was buried in Edinburgh, in the church then 
called St. Giles’s, now the. Old Church. 

Knox was twice married; first, in 1553, to Marjory, daughter 
of Sir Robert Bowes; afterwards, in 1564, to Margaret Stew¬ 
art, daughter of Lord Ochiltree ; he had sons only by his first 
marriage; they all died without issue. He had three daughters 
by his second wife; the youngest, Mrs. Welch, appears to have 
been a remarkable person. 

The doctrines of Knox were those of the English reformers, 
impregnated to a certain extent with Calvinism. His opinions 
respecting the sacraments coincided with those of the English 
Protestants: he preached that all sacrifices which men offered 
for sin were blasphemous; that it was incumbent to make an 
open profession of the doctrine of Christ, and to avoid idolatry, 
superstition, and every way of worship unauthorized by the 
Scriptures; he was altogether opposed to episcopacy. His 
views were more austere than those promulgated in England; 
and it would be curious to trace in what degree the present 
greater severity of the Scotch Presbyterians, compared with 
that of the English Protestants, is attributable to this reformer. 

The opposition of Knox, as well to episcopacy as to papacy, 
has caused his reputation to be severely dealt with by many 
writers of contrary opinions on these points. A most elaborate 
character of him has been drawn at some length by Dr. M‘Crie, 
and, though it may perhaps be well to inform the reader that 
Dr. M‘Crie was a rigid Presbyterian, we think it on the whole 
a just representation. We subjoin a brief summary of it: Knox 
possessed strong talents; was inquisitive, ardent, acute, vigor¬ 
ous, and bold in his conceptions. He was a stranger to none 
of the branches of learning cultivated in that age by persons of 
his profession, and he felt an irresistible desire to impart his 
knowledge to others. Intrepidity, independence, and elevation 


JOHN KNOX. 


199 


of mind, indefatigable activity, and constancy which no disap¬ 
pointments could shake, eminently qualified him for the post 
which he occupied. In private life he was loved and revered 
by his friends and domestics: when free from depression of 
spirits, the result of ill health, he was accustomed to unbend 
his mind, and was often witty and humorous. Most of his faults 
may be traced to his natural temperament, and the character 
of the age and country in which he lived. His passions were 
strong, and as he felt he expressed himself, without reserve or 
disguise. His zeal made him intemperate: he was obstinate, 
austere, stern, and vehement. These defects, which would have 
been inexcusable in most other persons, may be more easily for¬ 
given in him, for they were among the most successful weapons 
in his warfare. 


200 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JACOB BOHME. 



PPER LUSATIA contained a small market- 
town called Alt-Seidenberg, (Brucker writes 
Palseo-Seidenburgum,) distant from Gorlitz 
about a mile and a half, in which lived a 
,S man whose name was Jacob, and his wife’s 
name was Ursula. They were poor, but 
sober and honest. In the year 1575 they 
had a son, whom they named Jacob. This 
was that Jacob Bohme who was afterwards 
called the Teutonic philosopher. His first em¬ 
ployment was the care of cattle, but when grown 
older he was placed at a school, where he learned to 
read and to write, and was afterwards apprenticed to 
a shoemaker in Gorlitz. Having served his time, in 
the year .1594 he took to wife Catharine, the daughter 
of the butcher Johann Hunschmann, a citizen of Gorlitz, 
by whom he had four sons. His sons he placed to honest trades. 
He himself became master-shoemaker in 1595. 

Jacob Bohme relates that when a herdsboy he had a re¬ 
markable trial. In the heat of mid-day, retiring from his 
play-fellows he went to a stony crag called the Landskron, and, 
finding an entrance or aperture overgrown with bushes, he went 
in, and saw there a large wooden vessel full of money, at which 
sight, being in a sudden astonishment, he retired in haste with¬ 
out touching it, and related his fortune to the rest of the boys, 
who, coming with him, sought often an entrance, but could never 
find any. Some years after a foreign artist, as Jacob Bohme 
himself related, skilled in finding out magical treasures, took it 
away, and thereby much enriched himself; yet he perished by 
an infamous death, that treasure being lodged there and covered 
with a curse to him that should find and take it away. 

He also relates that when he was an apprentice, his master 



JACOB BOHME. 


201 


and his mistress being abroad, there came to the shop a stran¬ 
ger, of a reverend and grave countenance, yet in mean apparel, 
and taking up a pair of shoes, desired to buy them. The boy, 
being yet scarce promoted higher than sweeping the shop, would 
not presume to set a price on them; but the stranger being very 
importunate, Jacob at last named a price which he was certain 
would keep him harmless in parting with them. The old man 
paid the money, took the shoes, and went from the shop a little 
way, when, standing still, with a loud and earnest voice he called, 
“ Jacob, Jacob, come forth.” The boy came out in a great 
fright, amazed that the stranger should call him by his Christian 
name. The man, with a severe but friendly countenance, fixing 
his eyes upon him, which were bright and sparkling, took him 
by his right hand and said to him:— 

“ Jacob, thou art little, butshalt be great, and become another 
man, such a one as the world shall wonder at; therefore be 
pious, fear God, and reverence his word. Read diligently the 
Holy Scriptures, wherein thou hast comfort and instruction. 
For thou must endure much misery and poverty, and suffer 
persecution; but be courageous and persevere, for God loves and 
is gracious unto theeand therewith pressing his hand, with a 
bright sparkling eye fixed on his face, he departed. 

This prediction made a deep impression upon Jacob’s mind, 
and made him bethink himself, and grow serious in his actions, 
keeping his thoughts stirring in consideration of the caution 
received. Thenceforward he frequented public worship much 
more, and profited thereby to the outward reformation of his 
life. Considering Luke xi. 13—“My Father in heaven will 
give his Spirit to him that asks him,” he desired that Comforter. 
He says that he was at last “surrounded with a divine light for 
seven days, and stood in the highest contemplation and in the 
kingdom of joys whilst he was with his master in the country 
about the affairs of his vocation.” He then grew still more 
attentive to his duties, read the Scriptures, and lived in all the 
observance of outward ministrations. Scurrilous and blasphe¬ 
mous words he would rebuke even in his own master, who, being 
not able to bear this, set him at liberty with full permission to 
seek his livelihood as he liked best. About the year 1600, in 
the twenty-fifth year of his age, Jacob was again surrounded 
by the divine light, and viewing the herbs and grass in the 
26 


202 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


fields near Gorlitz in his inward light, he saw into their essences, 
use, and properties, which were discovered to him bj their linea¬ 
ments, figures, and signatures. 

In like manner he beheld the whole creation, and from that 
fountain of revelation he wrote his book De Signatura Rerum. 
In unfolding these mysteries he had great joy, yet he looked 
carefully after his family, and lived in peace and silence, scarce 
intimating to any these wonderful things, till in the year 1610, 
he wrote his first book, called Aurora , or the Morning Redness. 

This manuscript he did not choose to intrust to any man, till 
a gentleman of rank, an intimate friend of his, having got sight 
of it, prevailed upon him to indulge him with the perusal of it. 
This gentleman immediately took it to pieces, and with his own 
hand, assisted by other transcribers, copied it with amazing des¬ 
patch. Thus, contrary to the author’s intention, it became 
public, and fell into the hands of Gregory Richter, superinten¬ 
dent of Gorlitz, who making use of his pulpit for speaking with¬ 
out a gainsayer, to revile what and whom he pleased, endeavoured 
to stir up the magistracy to exercise their jurisdiction in rooting 
out this supposed church-weed. 

The senate convened Jacob Bohme, seized his book, and 
admonished him to stick to his last, and leave off writing books. 
The original manuscript of the Aurora , in Bohme’s own hand¬ 
writing, was (after having been seven and twenty years in the 
custody of the senate at Gorlitz) on Nov. 26, 1641, presented by 
Dr. Paul Scipio, the then burgomaster or mayor there, to 
George Pflug, marshal to the court of the elector of Dresden. 
Pflug, who was well affected to Bohme, was then on a visit at 
Gorlitz. Pflug despatched this manuscript to Abraham Wilhelm 
van Beyerland, a citizen and merchant of Amsterdam. 

Upon the command of the senate he abstained from writing 
for seven years, after which he was moved again to write. The 
list of his works stands as follows. The books which he left 
unfinished are put in parentheses. 

1. Aurora. 2. Of the Three Principles, 1619. 3. Of the 

Threefold Life of Man, 1620. 4. Answers to the Forty Ques¬ 
tions of the Soul. 5. Of the Incarnation of Jesus Christ. Of 
the Suffering, Death, and Resurrection of Christ. Of the Tree 
of Faith. 6. Of the Six Points, great and small. 7. Of the 
Heavenly and Earthly Mystery. 8. Of the last times, to P. 


JACOB BOHME. 


203 


K. 9. De Signatura Rerum. 10. A Consolatory Book of the 
Four Complexions. 11. An Apology to Balthasar Tilken, in 
two parts. 12. Considerations upon Isaias Stiefel’s book. 13. 
Of true Repentance, 1622. 14. Of true Resignation. 15. A 

Book of Regeneration. 16. A book of Predestination and 
Election of God, 1623. IT. A Compendium of Repentance. 
18. Mysterium Magnum, or an Exposition upon Genesis. 19. 
A Table of the Principles, or a Key of his Writings. 20. Of 
the Supersensual Life. 21. (Of the Divine Vision.) , 22. Of 
the two Testaments of Christ, Baptism and the Supper. 23. A 
Dialogue between the enlightened and unenlightened Soul. 24. 
An Apology for the Book on true Repentance, against a 
Pamphlet of the Primate of Gorlitz, Gregory Richter. 25. (A 
Book of 177 Theosophick Questions.) 26. An Epitome of the 
Mysterium Magnum. 27. (The Holy Weeks, or the Prayer 
Book.) 28. A Table of the Divine Manifestation. 29. Of the 
Errors of the Sects of Ezekiel Meths and Isaias Stiefel, or An- 
tistiefelius II. 30. A Book of the Last Judgment. 31. Letters 
to divers Persons with Keys for hidden Words. 

The publication of his first book made many learned men 
visit him, -with whom much conversing, he got the use of those 
Greek and Latin words that are frequent in his works. 

Among the learned that conversed with him was a physician, 
Balthasar Walter, from Silesia, who had travelled in search of 
ancient magical learning through Egypt, Syria, Arabia, &c., 
where he found such small remnants of it, that he returned 
unsatisfied to his own country, where he became inspector of 
the chemical laboratory at Dresden. Having become acquainted 
with Bohme, he rejoiced that at last he had found at home, in 
a poor cottage, that for which he had travelled so far in vain. 
Walter introduced the appellation of Philosophus Teutonic as. 

B. Walter went to the German universities, and collected 
such questions concerning the soul as were thought and ac¬ 
counted impossible to be resolved fundamentally, of which he 
made a catalogue, being forty in number, and sent them to 
Bohme, from whom he received answers to his satisfaction, 
(which answers are public in many languages.) Balthasar 
Walter came to Bohme and professed that he had received 
more solid answers than he had found among the best wits of 
those and more promising climates. 


204 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


The translator of the said answers into English presented a 
copy to King Charles I., who, a month after, said that if Bohme 
were no scholar, the Holy Ghost was now in men; but if he 
were a scholar, he was one of the best. 

Doctor Weisner, after giving in a letter a curious account of 
the persecution of Bohme by Gregorius Richter, the primate of 
Gorlitz, of Jacob’s banishment by the senate, of their repealing 
their absurd and unjust order, goes on to say,—“ Yet still tired 
with the prelate’s incessant clamour, they at length sent for 
him again, and entreated him that in love to the city’s quiet 
he would seek himself a habitation elsewhere ; which if he would 
do they should hold themselves obliged to him for it, as an 
acceptable service. In compliance with this friendly request 
of theirs, he removed from thence. After this upon a citation, 
Jacob Bohme came to Dresden before his highness the prince 
elector of Saxony, where were assembled six doctors of divinity, 
Dr. Hoe, Dr. Meisner, Dr. Balduin, Dr. Gerhard, Dr. Leysern, 
and another doctor, and two professors of the mathematics. 
And these, in the presence of his highness the prince elector, 
began to examine him concerning his writings, and the high 
mysteries therein; and many profound queries in divinity, 
philosophy, and the mathematics they proposed to him. To 
all which he replied with such meekness of spirit, such depth 
of knowledge and fulness of matter, that none of those doctors 
and professors returned one word of dislike or contradiction. 
The prince his highness much admired him, and required to 
know the result of their judgments in what they had heard. 
Bu,t the doctors and examiners desired to be excused, and en¬ 
treated his highness that he would have patience till the spirit 
of the man had more plainly declared itself, for in many par¬ 
ticulars they could not understand him. 

“ To Jacob Bohme’s questions they returned answers with 
much modesty, being amazed to hear from a man of that mean 
quality such mysterious depths. 

“ There were two astrologers present, to whom, having dis¬ 
coursed of their science, he said, < Thus far is the knowledge of 
your art right and good, grounded in the mystery of nature; 
but what is over and above are heathenish additions.’ 

“ The elector being satisfied with his answers, took him apart, 


JACOB BOHME. 


205 


and discoursed with him concerning difficult points, and cour¬ 
teously dismissed him. 

“ After this Dr. Meisner and Dr. Gerhard, meeting at Witten¬ 
berg, expressed how greatly they admired the continued har¬ 
mony of Scriptures produced at his examination. Many learned- 
men and preachers now taught those doctrines of regeneration 
and the means of attaining it against which they formerly ex¬ 
claimed as heretical. Bohme wrote in the albums of his friends, 

“Wem Zeit ist wie Ewigkeit 
Und Ewigkeit wie die Zeit 
Der ist befreit von allem Streit.” 

“ Soon after Bohme’s return to Gorlitz, died his adversary, the 
pastor primarius Gregorius Richter; and Bohme himself died 
three months and a half later. 

44 On ^unday, Nov. 18, 1624, early in the morning, he asked 
his son Tobias if he heard the excellent music ? The son 
replied, 4 No.’ 4 Open,’ said he, 4 the door, that it may be better 
heard.’ Afterward he asked what the clock had struck, and 
said, 4 Three hours hence is my time.’ 

44 When it was near six he took leave of his wife and son, 
blessed them, and said, 4 Now go I hence into Paradise;’ and 
bidding his son to turn him, he fetched a deep sigh and departed. 
The new primarius refused to preach at his funeral, feigning to 
be unwell, and his colleague, Magister Elias Theodoras, being 
compelled by the magistracy to preach on his death, began by 
saying he would rather have walked 100 miles than preach the 
funeral sermon. 

44 The physician at Gorlitz, Dr. Kober, arranged his burial, 
which was performed with the usual ceremonies, to the due 
performance of which the clergy were compelled by the magis¬ 
trates. His friends placed a cross on his grave, but his enemies 
pelted it with mud, and broke it to pieces. Jacob Bohme’s 
wife died of the plague two years later. One of his four sons 
was a goldsmith; the others had learned other trades. All 
died soon after J. Bohme.” 

He was lean, and of small stature; had a low forehead; his 
temples were prominent; was somewhat hawk-nosed; his eyes 
were gray and very azure; his beard was thin and short; his 
voice low, but he had a pleasing speech, and was modest and 

S 


206 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


humble in his conversation. He wrote very slowly but legibly, 
and seldom or never struck out and corrected what he had 
written. 

After Bohme’s death his opinions spread over Germany, 
Holland, and England. Even a son of his persecutor, Richter, 
being then a merchant’s clerk at Thorn, edited at his own ex¬ 
pense an epitome of Bohme’s works in 8 volumes, and arranged 
their contents in a sort of an index. The younger Richter 
became fond of Bohme’s doctrines while he yet attempted to 
refute them. He printed of his extracts only about 100 ’copies; 
consequently they are now extremely scarce. The first col¬ 
lection of Bohme’s works was published by Heinrich Betke, 
Amst. 1675, 4to. 

Bohme and his followers were especially persecuted by the 
clergy, who seemed to deem his writings on theosophical sub¬ 
jects an infringement of the prerogatives of the cleri^l order. 
The ecclesiastics at Gorlitz persecuted Bohme during his life, 
and refused to bury his corpse until they were compelled by the 
magistrates not to disgrace the earthly remains of a man who 
had led a harmless life, and always been in strict communion 
with the Lutheran church. The admirers of Bohme were for 
the greater part not professional divines, but noblemen, country 
gentlemen, courtiers, physicians, chemists, merchants, and in 
general, men who were eager in the pursuit of truth, and who 
did not stickle for modes of speech and established formalities. 
The persecutions raised against him brought Bohme first into 
the notice of men of rank, who took delight in conversing with 
the poor shoemaker and his followers, while universities and 
eccle&iastical courts enacted laws against his opinions, and his 
persecuted disciples appealed even in England to the high court 
of parliament. Sir Isaac Newton, William Law, Schelling, and 
Hegel, were all readers of Bohme. 

William Law, in the appendix to the second edition of his 
“ Appeal to all that doubt or disbelieve the Truths of the Gos¬ 
pel,” 1756, mentions, that among the papers of Newton were 
found many autograph extracts from the works of Bohme. 
Law conjectures that Newton derived his system of fundamental 
powers from Bohme, and that he avoided mentioning Bohme, as 
the originator of his system, lest it should come into disrepute. 

Bohme’s theosophy consists in the endeavour to demonstrate 


JACOB BOHME. 


207 


in every thing its necessity by tracing its origin to the attributes 
of God. Consequently some of Bohme’s phrases sound like the 
doctrines of Manichgean emanation, and have been misinter¬ 
preted as being such. Bohme traces the parallelism between 
the visible physical, and the invisible metaphysical world. His 
comparisons and images are not the essence of his theosophy, 
but only illustrative of thoughts which have commanded the 
admiration and approbation of some of the deepest thinkers, 
while others are apt to neglect him entirely on account of his 
errors in subordinate non-essentials. Bohme forms undoubtedly 
an important link in the chain of thought, which connects the 
present state of philosophy with the beginnings of former ages. 
He often produces magnificent ideas, but he occasionally sup¬ 
ports his theory by false etymologies, and by chemical and 
astrological notions which have been long ago rejected. A 
specimen of false etymology is his derivation of the word qualitat 
(«. e. quality) from the German qual, i. e. pain, and quelle, 
i. e. well , fountain , source. He has now again many admirers 
in Germany, but perhaps no one would approve of this mode 
of demonstration. 


208 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


HUGO GROTIUS. 



UGO GROTIUS was born at Delft, 10th 
April, 1583, of which town his father, John 
de Groot, was burgomaster, and also curator 
of the then newly established University of 
Leyden. From his boyhood, Grotius mani¬ 
fested an extraordinary ability; and he is said 
to have written Latin verses when he was only 
eight years old. At the age of eleven, he was 
sent to the University of Leyden, where his 
education was particularly superintended by the 
theologian Junius, with whom he lived, and by 
Joseph Scaliger. He remained three years at Ley¬ 
den, during which he applied himself to the study 
of divinity, law, and mathematics. In 1597, he main¬ 
tained two public theses on philosophy, and wrote in 
praise of Henry IV., in Latin, a poem entitled “ Tri- 
umphus Gallicus,” which he dedicated to M. de Buzenval, the 
French ambassador in Holland. In 1598, he accompanied a 
Dutch embassy to Paris, where he was introduced to the king, 
who gave him a golden chain and presented him to his court as 
the miracle of Holland. After one year’s stay .in France, 
where he was treated with much distinction by many eminent 
personages, he returned to Holland, whence he addressed a let¬ 
ter to Thuanus, (De Thou,) expressing his regret at having 
missed an opportunity of making his acquaintance when in 
France. This letter laid the foundation of a literary and 
friendly correspondence, which lasted till the death of Thuanus. 
In the same year, (1599,) he published an edition of Martianus 
Capella, with notes, which he dedicated .to the Prince de Condd 
This edition is adorned, besides a portrait of the Prince de 
Cond6, with that of Grotius himself, aged fifteen, wearing the 
chain which he had received from Henry IV. Immediately on 



HUGO GROTIUS. 


209 


his return from France, Grotius was called to the bar, and 
pleaded with great success; but his legal occupations did not 
prevent him from attending to other studies. In the same 
year, 1599, he published a Latin translation of a nautical work, 
written by Stevinus, at the request of the Prince Maurice of 
Nassau, for -the use of naval officers. In 1600, appeared his 
edition of the “Phenomena” of Aratus. The corrections he 
made in the Greek text are considered to be very judicious, and 
his notes show some knowledge of Arabic. Notwithstanding 
these serious studies, Grotius found time for cultivating poetry, 
and with such success that he was considered one of the best 
Latin poets of his time. The “ Prosopopeia” of the city of 
Ostend, which had sustained a siege of three years, was univer¬ 
sally considered a masterpiece, and was translated into French 
by Rapin, Pasquier, and Malherbe, and into Greek by Isaac 
Casaubon. 

Grotius was nominated advocate-general for the treasury of 
Holland and Zealand in 1607, and in the next year married 
Mary Reygersburgh, a lady of great family in Zealand. In 
1613, he was made pensionary of Rotterdam, an important 
place, which gave him a seat in the assembly of the states of 
Holland, and afterwards in that of the states-general, and it 
was about that time that he contracted an intimate friendship 
with Olden Barneveldt, a connection which exercised the greatest 
influence on his life. In 1615, Grotius was sent to England, in 
order to arrange the difficulties arising from the claims of the 
English to exclude the Dutch from the whale-fisheries of Green¬ 
land. During that negotiation, Grotius was by no means satis¬ 
fied with the English ministry; but he was much pleased with 
his reception by King James. The most agreeable incident of 
his visit to England was, however, the opportunity which it 
afforded him of forming an intimate friendship with Isaac 
Casaubon, in common with whom he entertained a hope of 
uniting all Christians into one church. The intimacy of 
Grotius with Barneveldt, whose political and religious opi¬ 
nions he shared, involved him in the misfortune of his friend. 
He was condemned, on the 18th May, 1619, to perpetual 
imprisonment, and his property was confiscated. Pursuant 
to this sentence, he was conveyed, on the 6th June, in the 
same year, to the fortress of Loevestein, situated at the ex- 

27 s 2 


210 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

tremity of an island formed by the Maas and the Waal. His 
wife was allowed to share her husband’s imprisonment ; but 
Grotius’s father was refused permission to see his son. During 
the imprisonment of Grotius, study became his consolation and 
the business of his life. In several of his letters, addressed 
from Loevestein to Vossius, he gives an account of his studies, 
informing him that he was occupied with law and moral philo¬ 
sophy. He devoted his Sundays to reading works on religious 
subjects, and he employed in the same way the time which re¬ 
mained after his ordinary labours were over. He wrote, during 
his imprisonment, his treatise on the truth of the Christian re¬ 
ligion, in Dutch verse, (which he subsequently translated into 
Latin prose,) translated the «Phoenissae” of Euripides into 
Latin verse, wrote the institutions of the laws of Holland in 
Dutch, and drew up for his daughter Cornelia a kind of cate¬ 
chism in one hundred and eighty-five questions and answers, 
written in Flemish verse. After eighteen months’ confinement, 
Grotius was at last released by the ingenuity of his wife, who 
had obtained permission to go out of the prison twice a week. 
He constantly received books, which were brought in and taken 
out in a large chest together with his linen. For some time 
this chest was strictly examined by the guards; but, finding 
only books and foul linen, they at last grew tired of the search 
and gave it up. Grotius’s wife, having observed this, persuaded 
her husband to get into the chest, which he did, and in this 
manner escaped from the fortress on the 21st of March, 1621. 
He made his way through Antwerp to France, where his wife, 
W’ho had been detained for about a fortnight .in prison, joined 
him a few months afterwards. 

Louis XIII. received Grotius very favourably, and granted 
him a pension of 3000 livres ; but it was paid with great irre¬ 
gularity. He was harshly treated by the Protestant ministers 
of Charenton, who, having assented to the doctrines of the Synod 
of Dordrecht, refused to admit Grotius into their communion, 
and he was obliged to have divine service performed at home. 
At Paris (1622) he published his “Apology,” which was pro¬ 
hibited in Holland under severe penalties. Having spent a 
year at Paris, he retired to a country-seat of the President De 
Mesmes, near Senlis, where he spent the spring and summer 
of 1623. It was in that retreat that he commenced his work 


HUGO GROTIUS. 


211 


“ De Jure .Belli et Pacis,” which was published in the next 
year. 

During his residence in France, he was constantly annoyed 
with importunities to come over to the Roman Catholic religion; 
but, though he was tired of the country and received invitations 
from the Duke of Holstein and the King of Denmark, he de¬ 
clined them. Gustavus Adolphus also made him offers, which, 
after his death, were repeated by Oxenstiern in the name of 
Queen Christina. In the mean time, the Stadtholder Maurice 
died, and his successor seeming less hostile to Grotius, he was 
induced, by the entreaties of his Dutch friends, to venture to 
return. He arrived at Rotterdam in September, 1631, and the 
news of his return excited a great sensation throughout all 
Holland. But, in spite of all the efforts of his friends, he was 
again obliged to leave the country, and went (in 1632) to Ham¬ 
burg, where he lived till 1634, when he joined the Chancellor 
Oxenstiern at Frankfort-on-the-Main, who appointed him coun¬ 
cillor to the Queen of Sweden and her ambassador at the court 
of France. The object of the embassy was to obtain the assist¬ 
ance of France against the emperor. Grotius arrived at Paris 
in March, 1635; and, although he had many difficulties to en¬ 
counter from Richelieu, and afterwards from Mazarin, he main¬ 
tained the rights and promoted the interests of his adopted 
sovereign with great firmness. He continued in his post till 
1644, when he was recalled at his own request. Having ob¬ 
tained a passport through Holland, he embarked on his return 
at Dieppe, and, on his landing at Amsterdam, (1645,) was re¬ 
ceived with great distinction and entertained at the public ex¬ 
pense. From Amsterdam he proceeded by Hamburg and Lii- 
beck to Stockholm, where he was received in the most flattering 
manner by the queen. Grotius, however, was not pleased with 
the learned flippancy of Christina’s court, and resolved on quit¬ 
ting Sweden. The climate also did not agree with him. The 
queen, having in vain tried to retain him in her service, made 
him a present of a large sum of money and of some costly ob¬ 
jects. She also gave him a vessel, in which he embarked for 
Liibeck on the 12th August; but a violent storm, by which his 
ship was tossed about during three days, obliged him to land 
on the 17th in Pomerania, about fifteen leagues from Danzig, 
whence he proceeded towards Liibeck. He arrived at Rostock 


212 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


on the 26th, very ill from the fatigues of the journey, and from 
exposure to wind and rain in an open carriage. He died on 
the 28th August, 1645, in the sixty-third year of his age. His 
last moments were spent in religious preparation, and he died 
expressing the sentiments of a true Christian. His body was 
carried to Delft and deposited in the grave of his ancestors, 
where a monument was erected to him in 1781. Two medals 
were struck in honour of him. 

Notwithstanding his stormy life, the works of Grotius are 
very numerous. They treat of divinity, jurisprudence, history, 
literature, and poetry. Many of them are become classical. 


JOHN ELIOT. 


213 


JOHN ELIOT. 



LIOT is believed to have been by birth an 
Englishman, and was born in 1604. Little 
is known of his early history. His mind was 
from childhood deeply imbued with a sense 
of religious duty, and for this he appears to 
have been remarkable at Cambridge Univer¬ 
sity. But no real change of heart appears to 
have taken place until, after leaving the uni¬ 
versity, he became usher in the school of Little 
Baddow, which was under the care of the Rev. 
Thomas Hooker. Here a deep conviction of his 
own sinfulness was forced upon him; he devoted his 
whole mind to an investigation of gospel truth; and 
soon received a degree of light and truth, which he 
considered as a witness that he was accepted as a child 
of God. He resolved to devote himself henceforth to the 
service of heaven; and, to do so more effectually, he adopted the 
resolution of becoming pastor to some of the emigrant congrega¬ 
tions which were at that time settling on the shores of New Eng¬ 
land. In November, 1631, he arrived at Boston, joined a newly 
arrived congregation, was elected their pastor, and assisted in 
founding the town of Roxbury. The purity of his life, and the 
forcible manner in which he proclaimed the gospel, soon spread 
his reputation to the surrounding settlements, and caused hia 
congregation to increase rapidly. To the hardy settlers his 
kindness to children was especially pleasing; and to their edu¬ 
cation, both on secular and religious subjects, he devoted many 
hours of his life. 

But Eliot merits our greatest esteem by his efforts as a 
missionary among the Indians. His first sermon to these 
benighted people was at a place about four miles from Rox¬ 
bury. It was attended with prayer and other exercises, and 



214 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


appears to have produced a deep effect. Other meetings met 
with such success, that the Indian doctors at length forbade 
their countrymen to attend them. The prohibition was vain. 
Numbers flocked from every side; many abandoned their savage 
life and became true converts to the gospel; Indian congrega¬ 
tions were formed; and a town was built, where the new con¬ 
verts could assemble and adopt the modes of civilized life. It 
was in fact the foundation of an Indian Christian community, 
where the wild sons of the forest laid aside the habits of their 
ancestors, and became useful to themselves and their children. 
‘‘My desire,” says Eliot, “is to teach them all to write, and 
read written hand, and thereby with painstaking, they may 
have some of the Scriptures in their own language. If once I 
had some of themselves able to write and read, it might further 
the work exceedingly, and will be the speediest wny.” Such 
efforts could not be barren of results. The Indian congregation 
soon began to assume the order and comfort of a Puritan colony; 
and the warm support afforded by the government at Ply¬ 
mouth, enabled Eliot to proceed rapidly in his good work among 
other and more distant tribes. He journeyed from place to 
place, everywhere proclaiming the glad news of salvation; and 
some of the converts, sharing his zeal, assisted in these labours. 
“I have not been dry night nor day,” is his language, “from 
the third day of the week to the sixth, but have travelled from 
place to place in that condition. At night I pull off my boots, 
wring my stockings, and on with them again, and so continue. 
The rivers also were deep, so that we were wet in riding through. 
But God steps in and helps me. I have considered the exhor¬ 
tation of Paul to his son Timothy, ‘ endure hardness as a good 
soldier of Jesus Christ,’ with many other such like meditations.” 

News of the. success of Eliot at length reached England. 
Parliament, in an act which does them credit, made provision 
to encourage those engaged in converting the Indians; and com¬ 
missioners raised large sums throughout England, and appro¬ 
priated them to the Indian mission. This assistance Eliot 
knew how to appreciate; but he was still obliged to struggle 
with difficulties. He felt that knowledge and religion should 
go hand in hand; and his desire was to see schools established, 
where might be taught to the different tribes the English lan¬ 
guage and the rudiments of an English education. “Sundry 


JOHN ELIOT. 


215 


in the country,” he says, “in different places would gladly be 
taught the knowledge of God and Jesus Christ, and would pray 
unto God, if I could go unto them and teach them where they 
dwell; but to come and live here, among or near to the English, 
they are not willing. A place must be found somewhat remote 
from the English, where they must have the word constantly 
taught, and government constantly exercised, means of good 
subsistence, and encouragements for the industrious provided. 
Such a project would draw many that are well minded together.” 
The result of these representations and labours was a con¬ 
siderable grant of land on the Charles river. Here was built 
the Indian town Natick, in which a large number of the new 
converts formed themselves into a civil and religious com¬ 
munity, and in a solemn manner openly dedicated themselves 
to God. The nature of the change which had taken place 
among the Indians cannot be better described than by exhibit¬ 
ing the death-bed scene of one of the converted chiefs. It is 
in Eliot’s own words. “ He made so gracious an end of his life, 
embraced death with such holy submission to the Lord, and 
was so little terrified at it, as that he hath greatly strengthened 
the faith of the living. I think he did more good by his death 
than he could have done by his life. One of his sayings was, 
God giveth us three mercies in the world—the first is health 
and strength, the second is food and clothes, the third is sick¬ 
ness and death; and when we have had our share in the two 
first, why should we not be willing to take our part in the third ? 
His last words were ‘0 Lord, give me Jesus Christ.’ When he 
could speak no more, he continued to lift up his hands to hea¬ 
ven, according as his strength lasted, until his last breath. 
When I visited him the last time, one of his sayings was this: 
‘Four years and a quarter since, I came to your house and 
brought some of my children to dwell with the English; now, 
when I die, I strongly entreat elder Heath, and the rest who 
have our children, that they may be taught to know God, so 
that they may teach their countrymen.’ His heart was much 
upon our intended work, to gather a church among them. 
Turning to the company who were present, he spake unto them 
thus:—‘I now shall die, but Jesus Christ calleth you that live 
to go to Natick, that there the Lord might rule over you, that 
you might make a church, and have the ordinances of God among 


216 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


you, believe his word, and do as he commandeth you.’ His 
gracious words were acceptable and affecting. The Indians 
flocked together to hear them. They beheld his death with 
many tears; nor am I able to write his story without weeping.” 
Many a death-bed scene, equally affecting, attested how thorough 
was the reformation which, by means of Eliot, a benign Provi¬ 
dence had wrought in the hearts of these poor savages. 

After much disappointment and delay, a neat church edifice 
was raised at Natick; and in 1661, an edition of the New Tes¬ 
tament in the Indian language was issued from the press of the 
society in England. Two years after, an edition of the Old Tes¬ 
tament appeared, thus completing the work for which Eliot had 
so ardently longed and toiled. The Bible was followed by 
translations of the Psalter and some smaller wmrks. Their 
appearance excited Eliot to new efforts; other ministers en 
gaged with him in the good work; his son became a missionary, 
whose preaching and success were worthy of his father, but 
whose career was soon arrested by death. Two years after this 
domestic affliction, Eliot published an Indian Grammar, and 
about the same time instituted a course of lectures at Natick, 
upon the leading principles of theology and logic. He next 
directed his efforts to the production of the second edition of 
the Indian Bible; and its publication appears to have been his 
last effort as a Christian writer. He had now reached the 
age of eighty, and could preach to the Indians only about once 
a month; but he had the satisfaction of seeing the church of 
Natick supplied by an Indian pastor, and that in various tribes 
many converts *were either engaged in preaching, or busily 
preparing themselves for the sacred office. He now wished to 
resign his office at Roxbury; but to this the congregation -would 
not consent. He then suggested the election of a colleague, 
using on that occasion the following disinterested language. 
“’Tis possible you may think the burden of maintaining two 
ministers may be too heavy for you; but I deliver from you that 
fear; I do here give back my salary to the Lord Jesus Christ; 
and now, brethren, you may fix that upon any man that God 
shall make a pastor over you.” The church however continued 
his salary. A young man, named Nehemiah Walter, a graduate 
of Harvard College, was elected as his associate, and the choice 
proved highly gratifying to his aged friend. After this, Eliot 


JOHN ELIOT. 


217 

preached very rarely; although much of his time was occupied 
in catechising and instructing the Indians. But early in the 
year 1690, he began to fail rapidly, and he was soon laid, amid 
great sufferings, upon the bed of death. In that solemn hour, 
when the proud mind of man shrinks before the stroke of death, 
and when the things of earth have ceased to charm, the old 
man’s heart was still directed to his favourite work. “ There 
is a cloud,” he said, almost with his last breath, “a dark cloud 
upon the work of the gospel among the poor Indians. The 
Lord revive and prosper that work, and grant that it may live 
when I am dead. It is a work which I have been doing much 
and long about. But what was the word I spoke last ? I recall 
that word my doings ! Alas ! they have been poor, and small, 
and lean doings; and, I’ll be the man that shall throw the first 
stone at them.” Eliot died in the eighty-sixth year of his age. 
His devout piety and the zeal which he displayed in preaching 
the gospel will appear, when we reflect that from his time few 
efforts have succeeded in civilizing any Indian tribes within 
the space of an ordinary lifetime. On the contrary, they have 
generally looked with an eye of jealousy upon missionary effort, 
and in the majority of cases have used every exertion to render 
it of no avail. 


T 


218 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


GEORGE FOX, 



OUNDER of the sect of Quakers, an enthu¬ 
siast honest, zealous, illiterate, yet of no mean 
capacity and influence, was born at Drayton, 
in Leicestershire, in July, 1624. His origin 
and the beginning of his preaching are thus 
shortly told by Neal. His father, being a poor 
weaver, put him apprentice to a country shoe¬ 
maker ; but having a peculiar turn of mind for 
- religion, he went away from his master, and wan¬ 
dered up and down the countries like a hermit, in 
a leathern doublet: at length, his friends, hearing 
he was at London, persuaded him to return home, 
and settle in some regular course of employment; but 
after he had been some months in the country, he went 
from his friends a second time in the year 1646, and 
threw off all further attendance on the public service in 
the churches. The reasons he gave for his conduct were, be¬ 
cause it was revealed to him that a learned education at the 
university was no qualification for a minister, but that all de¬ 
pended on the anointing of the Spirit; and that God who made 
the world did not dwell in temples made with hands. In 1647, 
he travelled into Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire, walking 
through divers towns and villages, which way soever his mind 
turned, in a solitary manner. He fasted much, and walked 
often abroad in retired places, with no other companion but his 
Bible. He would sometimes sit in a hollow tree all day, and 
frequently walk about the fields in the night like a man pos¬ 
sessed with deep melancholy. Towards the latter end of this 
year he began first to set up as a teacher of others, the princi¬ 
pal argument of his discourse being, that people should receive 
the inward divine teachings of the Lord, and take that for their 
rule. 



GEORGE POX. 


219 


From the beginning of his teaching he discontinued the use 
of outward marks of respect. He says, in his journal for 1648, 
“ When the Lord sent me forth into the world, he forbid me to 
put off my hat to any, high or low, and I was required to thee 
and thou all men and women, without any respect to rich or 
poor, great or small; and as I travelled up and down, I was 
not to bid people good-morrow or good-evening, neither might 
I bow or scrape with my leg to any one; and this made the sects 
and professions to rage.” Nothing probably conduced so much 
to the virulent persecution of the Quakers as their refusal of 
such tokens of respect, which persons in office interpreted into 
wilful contempt, except their conscientious refusal to take any 
oath, which involved them in the heavy penalties attached to 
the refusal of the oaths of allegiance and supremacy. 

We shall not enter on a detail of his religious tenets, labours, 
or sufferings; the latter are fully recorded in his journal, and 
noticed in most histories. It is necessary, however, to refer to 
his doctrine, that “ It is not the Scriptures, but the Holy Spirit, 
by which opinions and religions are to be tried.” By this test, 
each convert might believe himself possessed of a peculiar in¬ 
fallible internal guide; and, in fact, it proved a warrant for 
any wild fancies which entered the minds of his followers, and 
led some into extravagances which gave a colour for the cruel 
treatment which all experienced. Into such extravagances 
Fox himself does not appear to have been betrayed. From 
1648 till within a few years of his death, his life was made up 
of travel, disputation, and imprisonment. He visited the con¬ 
tinent of Europe several times, and, in 1671, made a voyage to 
the American colonies. Wherever he went, he seems to have 
left permanent traces of his preaching and presence. Quaker 
meeting-houses were first established in Lancashire, and the 
parts adjacent, in 1652, and in 1667, the congregations were 
organized into one body for purposes of correspondence, charity, 
and the maintenance of uniform discipline. The term Quaker 
arose at Derby, in 1650, on occasion of Fox being brought be¬ 
fore one Justice Bennet, “ who was the first that called us 
Quakers, because I bid them Tremble at the Word of the Lord." 
In 1677, and again in 1681, he visited the Netherlands, where 
his tenets had taken deep root. After his return from the latter 
journey, his constitution being broken by the labours and hard- 


220 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ships of near forty years, he desisted' from travelling, but con¬ 
tinued to preach occasionally in London, till within a few days 
of his death, which took place January 13, 1691. 

To Fox, and others among his associates, the praise of zeal, 
patience, self-denial, courage, are amply due; and their suffer¬ 
ings, under colour of law, are J a disgraceful evidence of the 
tyranny of the government and the intolerance of the people. 
But there was one point in Fox’s early conduct which justly 
exposed him to censure and punishment, his frequent interrup¬ 
tion of divine worship as performed by others. From this 
practice, in the latter part of his ministry, he seems to have 
abstained. His moral excellence and the genuineness of his 
devotion are unquestioned. Penn, a favourable witness, but a 
grave, sober, learned man, not likely to be caught by mere 
ranting, has left an elaborate tribute to Fox’s virtues in the pre¬ 
face to Fox’s Journal, from which we extract the following de¬ 
tached passages: 

“ He had an extraordinary gift in opening the Scriptures, 
hut above all he excelled in prayer. The inwardness and weight 
of his speech, the reverence and solemnity of his address and 
behaviour, and the trueness and fulness of his words, have often 
struck even strangers with admiration. The most awful living 
reverent frame I ever felt or beheld, I must say, was his in 
prayer. * * * He was of an innocent life, no busy-body, nor 
self-seeker, * * * a most merciful man, as ready to forgive, as 
unapt to give or take an offence, * * * an incessant labourer; 
as unwearied, so undaunted in his services for God and his peo¬ 
ple ; he was no more to be moved to fear than to wrath, * * * 
civil beyond all forms of breeding, very temperate, eating little, 
and sleeping less, though a bulky person.” Fox’s writings 
were for the most part short, they are very numerous, and in 
the collective edition fill three volumes folio. 


INCREASE MATHER. 


221 


INCREASE MATHER. 



HIS distinguished divine was the fourth son of 
i Richard Mather, a distinguished non-conform¬ 
ing preacher, of Lancaster, England, who emi¬ 
grated to Massachusetts in 1635. The son gra¬ 
duated at Harvard college in 1656, and became 
pastor of the North church at Boston in 1661. 
As early as 1681, he was invited to the presi¬ 
dency of the college; but, as his congregation 
refused to part with him, the honour was confer¬ 
red upon Rogers. The new president died in 1684, 
and Mather was again elected. He accepted the 
office on condition of being permitted to comply, to 
a reasonable extent, with the requisitions of his con¬ 
gregation. He preached to them on Sundays without 
interfering with his collegiate duties, or even with the 
time which he devoted to the production of his volumi¬ 
nous works. His reputation for learning and integrity brought 
him into the notice of the colonial government, by which he was 
employed in several important and delicate duties. 

When Charles II. endeavoured to wrest the charter from 
Massachusetts, Mather used his influence to dissuade the peo¬ 
ple from complying with the royal wish. His great opponent 
on this subject was Edward Randolph, an individual not at all 
scrupulous in the choice of means to ruin an adversary. He 
forged Mather’s signature to a letter addressed to Sir Lionel 
Jenkins, in which were numerous reflections on that nobleman’s 
conduct, and praises of Lord Shaftesbury, the infamous Oates, 
and others. This being a weak as well as a bad effort, Li¬ 
onel treated it with contempt. Mather seems to have been 
ignorant of this affair until some years after; but then he ex¬ 
pressed his conviction to Lionel that the letter had been writ¬ 
ten by Randolph. Randolph brought an action against him for 
t 2 


222 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


defamation. The case was decided for Mather. Randolph, 
being enraged at this unfortunate turn in his plans, brought a 
second action ; but, in the mean while, Mather had been ap¬ 
pointed by the general assembly to represent their condition in 
England, and to remonstrate against the arbitrary conduct of 
Andros. While the writ was still in force against him, he en¬ 
tered the vessel (April, 1688) at night, and sailed immediately 
for London. 

On arriving at London, Mather immediately procured an 
interview with James II., and made a statement to him of 
the grievances of the colony. James promised to redress them; 
but the promise was perhaps a mere excuse for delay, originat¬ 
ing in the gloomy prospects which then disturbed the English 
monarch. A better day dawned with the accession of William 
and Mary. Mather was received favourably by the new sove¬ 
reigns; and soon after all the New England colonies petitioned 
for the restoration of their charters. The situation of affairs 
on the continent having obliged William to visit Holland, the 
consideration of these petitions was postponed. But Mather 
and the other colonial agents were indefatigable in their exer¬ 
tions for liberty. The language of Mather, during an inter¬ 
view with William on the 29th of April, 1691, is worthy of pre¬ 
servation by the side of the writings of our revolutionary fa¬ 
thers and the stirring appeals of the Continental Congress. 
“Your subjects,” Mather exclaimed, “have been willing to 
venture their lives to enlarge your dominions. The expedition 
to Canada was a great and noble undertaking. May it please 
your majesty, in your great wisdom, also to consider the cir¬ 
cumstances of that people as you have considered the circum¬ 
stances of England and Scotland. In New England they dif¬ 
fer from other plantations; they are called Congregational and 
Presbyterian ; so that such a government will not suit with the 
people of New England, as may be proper for people in the 
other plantations.” 

At length the new charter was granted. On its arrival, the 
general court appointed a day of thanksgiving, in which “ his 
excellency, the governor, and the Reverend Mr. Increase Mather” 
were particularly distinguished. But Mather still found ene¬ 
mies in the colony. The charter had been granted under some 
restrictions. These were resolutely decried by some influential 


INCREASE MATHER. 


223 


persons; and, as is usual in such case, a large portion of the 
blame was laid upon the commissioners. Some of Mather’s old 
friends forsook him ; and his letters of this period contain 
many bitter reflections on the ingratitude of those whom he 
had laboured to serve. On the other hand, he received many 
testimonials of respect from honourable sources. His London 
friends were numerous and respectable. Lord Somers and 
other noblemen tendered him their friendship; and, as a minis¬ 
ter, he was, with but slight exceptions, universally esteemed. 
The history of his controversies, principally concerning state 
matters, which he carried on at this time, would be tedious. 
Sometimes he was disposed to overrate the good he had done; 
but it must be recorded to his honour, that few, at that age, did 
as much as he did for colonial liberty, or acted with purer 
motives. 

Dr. Mather has usually been considered as the father of the 
New England churches. His name and character, together 
with those of his son, were long regarded with the highest 
veneration; and collections of his writings, together with me¬ 
moirs of his life, have been made by several men, some of them 
of no inconsiderable talent. At his death, August 23,1723, 
aged eighty-five, discourses were delivered, and afterwards 
widely circulated, by a number of eloquent men. His publica¬ 
tions were numerous. In an octavo volume, entitled « Remark- 
ables in the Life of Dr. Increase Mather,” eighty-five are enu¬ 
merated, besides “ the learned and useful prefaces which the 
publishers of many books obtained from him as a beautiful 
porch unto them, and which collected would make a considera¬ 
ble volume.” 


224 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


COTTON MATHER. 



*OTTON MATHER, the eldest son of Dr. 
Increase Mather, inherited his father’s passion 
for learning, became, as his father had been, 
the most distinguished divine then in New 
England, and is considered superior to In¬ 
crease in knowledge of general literature. 
In his mental constitution there was one great 
defect: although both his memory and his im¬ 
agination were powerful, his judgment was weak; 
and to this is to be ascribed most of the errors of 
his life. The accounts which we have concerning 
his actions and writings are much more confused and 
contradictory than might be expected from the dis- 
. tinguished part which both he and his father played in 
vjj the events of our earlier history. 

Cotton Mather was horn at Boston in 1622. He was 
educated at Harvard College, where he graduated in 1678, and 
in May, 1684, was ordained colleague with his father. His 
reputation as a scholar soon attracted the notice of foreign 
universities. That of Glasgow created him doctor of divinity; 
the Royal Society of London elected him one of its fellows. He 
is also styled a fellow of Harvard College, and was twice a 
candidate for the presidential chair. At the first time, in 17 07, 
he was defeated through the influence of Governor Dudley, 
who persuaded a friend to accept it; and again, in 1726, by the 
corporation. On this occasion the people were favourable to 
Mather; and, on account of the feeling evinced on the subject, 
two prominent men to whom it was first offered declined. 
Mather possessed less influence in public affairs than his father 
had; nor was he so much revered by either pastors or people. 
One cause of this was, his inclination to wit and levity. His 



COTTON MATHER. 


225 


vanity -was a little too great, his love of punning greater still; 
and his disposition, or rather passion for social merriment, greater 
than all. His book knowledge was very extensive, yet he was 
ignorant of human nature. He wrote too much to write well. 
It has been said that in a forenoon he could read a folio of 
several hundred pages, and then write a sermon. His mind 
was rather intuitive than studious; and his memory was so 
great as to be the wonder and admiration of his age. Notwith¬ 
standing his literary studies and his active pursuits, he never 
neglected his parochial duties or his private devotions. 

Dr. Mather died February 13, 1728. A large procession 
followed his remains to the grave. “ After his relatives, pro¬ 
ceeded the lieutenant-governor, Mr. Dummer, his majesty’s 
council and house of representatives, a large train of ministers, 
justices, merchants, scholars, and other principal inhabitants both 
of men and women. The streets were crowded with people, and 
the windows filled with sorrowful spectators all the way to the 
burying-place.” The obituary of the Boston Newsletter de¬ 
scribes him as “the principal ornament of his country, and the 
greatest scholar that was ever bred in it. Besides his universal 
learning, his exalted piety and extensive charity, his entertaining 
wit and singular goodness of temper, recommended him to all 
who were judges of real and distinguished merit.” Mather 
however was not without his enemies, some of whom loaded 
him with the keenest and coarsest abuse. His works number 
three hundred and eighty-two—tracts, histories, biographical 
sketches, &c. In one year he preached seventy-two sermons, 
kept sixty fasts and twenty vigils, and wrote fourteen books. 
His principal work is an Ecclesiastical History of New England, 
from 1625 to 1698, in seven books folio. Each of his writings 
is a most singular mixture of benevolence, piety, erudition, his¬ 
tory, criticism, credulity, pedantry, and eccentricity. He was 
long considered the greatest scholar that New England had 
produced. 


29 


226 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JOHN BUNYAN 



AS born in the village of Elstow, near Bed¬ 
ford, in 1628. His father was a poor tinker; 
but he managed to place his son at the vil¬ 
lage school, where he learned to read and 
write. When quite young, he w'as thrown 
among the vulgar and profane, and soon, as 
he himself informs us in his Grace Abound¬ 
ing, became the ringleader in all manner of 
lying, vice, and ungodliness. Yet, at the early 
age of ten or twelve years, an inward monitor 
C warned him of the consequences of sin : “ I was 
often much cast down and afflicted; yea, I was 
often then so overcome with despair of life and hea¬ 
ven, that I should often wish either that there had 
been no hell, or that I had been a devil, supposing 
that .they were only tormentors; that if it must needs 
be that I went thither, I might be rather a tormentor than tor¬ 
mented myself.” Here we see the germ of that powerful ima¬ 
gination, excited by the first workings of conscience, which 
Bunyan subsequently personified by the man with a heavy bur¬ 
den on his back, crying, “ What shall I do?” As he became 
older, his conscience hardened, and he found more peace. The 
desire of heaven and fear of hell left him; he mingled in 
wicked company ; he was wild, boisterous, reckless. Yet it 
would be unfair to consider his subsequent denunciations of his 
life at this early period as proof that he was indeed the worst 
youth in his neighbourhood, or of his age. In proportion as 
Bunyan became humbled by the grace of God, he magnified 
his early crimes; and he must be ignorant of true Christian 
feeling while under conviction for sin, to suppose that Bunyan’s 
confessions in the Grace Abounding are to be taken literally 
as a comparison of himself with others. He was no drunkard, 


JOHN BUNYAN. 


227 


nor did his worst acts at that time bring: him under cognisance 
of the magistrate. 

When seventeen, Bunyan entered the parliamentary army. 
When he was about marching to the siege of Leicester, one of 
the company volunteered to go in his stead. Bunyan con¬ 
sented. The man was shot as he stood sentinel; and long after, 
Bunyan delighted to dwell upon this interposition of Provi¬ 
dence in his behalf. Soon after he left the army; and at the 
early age of nineteen, he married. The financial condition of 
the tinker at this time may be inferred from his assertion, that 
they had not a dish or a spoon between them. Yet the mar¬ 
riage was undoubtedly a blessing. His wife’s dowry was two 
religious books; these Bunyan sometimes read to her, and the 
impression upon his feelings was favourable. He became regu¬ 
lar in his attendance at church, and learned to adore the « high 
place, priest, clerk, and vestment;” but he did not abandon the 
practice of swearing, until reproved by a woman, herself bad, 
who protested that his oaths, which made her tremble, were ca¬ 
pable of spoiling all the youth in the town. Bunyan was put 
to shame, and swore no more. About the same time, he was 
influenced by a poor, but pious man, to read the Bible, the re¬ 
sult of which was an outward conversion, which astonished all 
who knew him. It was only outward. “ I thought,” he says, 
“no man in England could serve God better than I.” 

From this self-righteous delusion, Bunyan was awakened by 
overhearing a conversation, on the power of real religion, among 
some poor women, who belonged to a Baptist denomination at 
Bedford. He also formed acquaintance with John Gifford, 
whose conversation was “sweet and pleasant to him.” He 
now became alarmed as to his condition ; he earnestly besought 
God for a new heart; he read the Bible with “new eyes;” and 
at last he was led to abandon his outward religion and cast him¬ 
self upon the mercy of God. But he had long and terrible 
conflicts to pass through. For more than a year, he was «tossed 
between the devil and his own ignorance,” harassed with doubts 
about Scripture, conjectures concerning practical religion, and 
horrible phantoms of his imagination. An interview with the 
village pastor brought no relief; and for a long period Bunyan 
was subject to those fearful temptations, which made him be¬ 
lieve that he saw both worlds revealed before him—one of which, 


228 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


the beautiful one, he was never to enjoy, while to the other he was 
rushing headlong. Just as he was beginning to emerge from this 
condition, an old translation of Luther’s Commentary on the Epis¬ 
tle to the Galatians fell into his hands. In this he found his re¬ 
ligious experience so “largely and profoundly handled,” that it 
seemed as though the book had been « written out of his own 
heart.” He ever prized it next to the Bible, and for a while his 
spirit received consolation. Then came a dark and terrible temp¬ 
tation. During a whole year, he was haunted with a desire to 
sell Christ—“ to exchange him for the things of this life—for 
any thing.” It haunted him day and night; it was whispered 
to him, as he walked through the streets, or sat at table ; he 
trembled and wrestled, and cried out under it, as his own Chris¬ 
tian did, during the conflict with Apollyon. Bunyan attributes 
this temptation to the immediate agency of the devil, and de¬ 
scribes the assaults to which he was exposed from the enemy of 
souls, with a vividness of language which sometimes causes the 
r.eader to shudder. This state of mind led him to search the 
Scriptures with more diligence, to “see more into the nature 
of the promises.” But so violent had been the struggle, that, 
on escaping from it, his health was impaired, and he began to 
exhibit symptoms bordering on consumption. But peace was 
gradually restored to his mind; and with it health returned. 

In 1653, Bunyan became a member of the Baptist church in 
Bedford. He had already attracted attention ; so that on join¬ 
ing the congregation, he was employed occasionally in exhort¬ 
ing or teaching, and in a short time was appointed itinerant 
preacher. In 1657, he was indicted for preaching at Eaton ; 
but the proceedings against him appear to have been arrested. 
The character of Bunyan’s preaching, we may gather from his 
own words : «It pleased me much, to contend with great earn¬ 
estness for the word of faith, and the remission of sins by the 
death and sufferings of Jesus; but as to other things, I would 
let them alone, because I saw they engendered strife.” How 
admirably, in these words, is foreshadowed the spirit which per¬ 
vades the Pilgrim’s Progress. His Christian meekness could 
not screen him, however, from persecution. In that age of bi¬ 
gotry and of wickedness, John Bunyan was regarded as a 
witch, a Jesuit, a highwayman, a libertine. In 1660, a warrant 
was issued against him, and after being brought before a justice 


JOHN BUNYAN. 


229 


in Bedfordshire, he was offered a discharge on condition of 
leaving off preaching. On refusing, he was committed to jail. 
Seven weeks after, he was brought before judges for examina¬ 
tion ; accused of neglecting the true church, and being pos¬ 
sessed with the devil; and, without either trial or verdict from 
jury, sentenced to three months’ imprisonment, “and at the 
three months’ end,” said the judge, “ if you do not submit to 
go to church to hear divine service, and leave your preaching, 
you must be banished the realm; and if you be found to come 
over again, without special license from the king, you must be 
stretched by the neck for it, I tell you plainly.” Bunyan an¬ 
swered, that if he were out of prison to-day, he would preach 
the gospel again to-morrow, by the help of God. On the 
king’s coronation, in 1661, a general pardon was proclaimed; 
but in this Bunyan was not included. His wife made efforts to 
obtain his release before Judges Hale, Twisden, and others; 
but though the former was disposed to clemency, he was over¬ 
ruled by his hardened associates, and Bunyan remained in jail. 
The jailer was, however, a compassionate man, and allowed his 
prisoner to depart occasionally through the day, on promise of 
returning at night. These opportunities he employed in preach¬ 
ing ; but of this his persecutors soon obtained information, and 
the jailer was notified to keep him close, or to leave his situa¬ 
tion. It is believed that he remained a close prisoner from 
1661 to 1668. During this time, he laboured at making little 
articles for the support of his family. By the Act of Indul¬ 
gence to Dissenters, he was liberated for a short time; but 
again incurring the persecution of the hierarchy, he was re¬ 
manded to prison, where he remained until 1672. It was du¬ 
ring this long period of confinement, that he wrote some of his 
most celebrated works—“Of Prayer by the Spirit,” “The 
Holy City’s Resurrection,” “Grace Abounding,” “A De¬ 
fence of the Doctrine of Justification,”—and one other, “ The 
Pilgrim’s Progress, Part I.” 

Of this great work—one which has no superior, and few 
equals in our language—so much is known by every class of 
readers, that it were superfluous to describe or analyze it. It 
is dated from prison, November 21, 1671, but the date of the 
first edition is unknown. The second edition was issued in 
1678, after which one edition after another was rapidly called 

U 


230 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


for. At the same time counterfeit ones appeared, and imita¬ 
tions, purporting to be continuations. It was probably from 
these, that Bunyan received the idea of writing his second 
part, which appeared in 1684. Long before this, Bunyan had 
obtained his release, and entered upon the enjoyment of that 
long season of almost uninterrupted happiness with which his 
latter days were blessed. In 1672, his congregation observed 
a day of thanksgiving on account of his release. Shortly after, 
the voluntary contributions of his friends enabled him to build 
a meeting-house. Here he preached tp large congregations 
with but little interruption. Scholars from college and con¬ 
ceited churchmen often came to argue with him, supposing that 
he was but an ignorant rustic; but they generally went away 
with far different opinions. In London, his reputation was so 
great, that, says one, « if but a day’s notice were given, the 
meeting-house in Southwark, where he generally preached, 
would not hold half the people that attended. Three thousand 
persons have been gathered together for the purpose, in a re¬ 
mote part of the town ; and no fewer than twelve hundred on 
a dark winter’s morning, at seven o’clock, even on week days.” 
The Baptist congregation at Hitchin, in Hertfordshire, is sup¬ 
posed to have been founded by him. In a wood, near Preston, 
he frequently preached to a thousand people; and five miles 
from Hitchin was a malt-house, in which he sometimes ad¬ 
dressed large congregations, and whose pulpit was carefully re¬ 
moved as an honoured relic, when, in 1787, the meeting was 
transferred to Coleman’s Green. So eager was he to dispense 
the word of life, that it is affirmed, on good authority, he some¬ 
times passed at midnight through the town of Beading, dis¬ 
guised as a carter, with whip in hand, until he arrived at the 
secret meetings of his friends. The house in which the Bap¬ 
tists met for worship stood in a lane; a bridge was thrown 
from the back door across a branch of the Kennett, by which, 
in case of alarm, they might escape. It was while visiting this 
place, that Bunyan contracted the disease which terminated his 
life. A young man, having incurred his father’s displeasure, 
was threatened with loss of his inheritance. He implored 
Bunyan to act as his mediator. Bunyan complied, and was 
successful; but his kindness to another proved fatal to himself. 
While returning to London on horseback, he was overtaken with 


JOHN BUNYAN. 


231 


heavy rains, which brought on cold, and a fever. The violence 
of the attack baffled his physician’s skill; and ten d^ys after, 
August 12, 1688, he died at the house of Mr. Stra&wick, a 
grocer on Snowhill. He was buried at Bunhill Fields, where a 
tomb has since been erected to his memory. 

Bunyan is described as being in “ countenance of a stern 
and rough temper,” but in his conversation mild and affa¬ 
ble, “not given to loquacity or much discourse in company, 
unless some urgent occasion required it; observing never to 
boast of himself or his parts, but rather to seem low in his own 
eyes, and submit himself to the judgment of others, loving to 
reconcile differences and make friendship with all. He had a 
sharp, quick eye, accompanied with an excellent discerning of 
persons, being of good judgment and quick wit. As for his 
person, he was tall of stature, strong boned, though not corpu¬ 
lent; somewhat of a ruddy face, with sparkling eyes; wearing 
his hair on his upper lip, after the old British fashion; his hair 
reddish, but, in his latter days, time had sprinkled it with gray; 
his nose well set, but not declining or bending, and his mouth 
moderately large; his forehead somewhat high; and his habit 
always plain and modest.” Bunyan married twice, and had many 
children, only four of whom survived him. His works are numer¬ 
ous, and as an instructor of the people he deserves to rank among 
the most powerful writers of his age. Perhaps, his most im¬ 
portant work, next to the Pilgrim’s Progress and Grace Abound¬ 
ing, is The Holy War, an allegory in which he describes the 
conflict between God and Satan for the town of Mansoul. 
His great allegory has been translated into nearly all the lan¬ 
guages of Europe, and of countries much frequented by Euro¬ 
peans, and is adopted as a standard church-book by the various 
denominations of Protestants, as well as by Roman Catholics. 
It is in an especial degree the book of the common people ; 
and, with the Bible, and a volume of Hymns or the Prayer 
Book, forms a fountain of pure English, for which it were vain 
to look elsewhere in the same number of pages. 


232 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


RICHARD BAXTER. 



AXTER, the renowned nonconformist divine, 
was born at Rowdon, a small village in Shrop- 
’shire, on the 12th November, 1615. He re¬ 
sided until 1625 at Eaton Constantine’s, five 
miles from Shrewsbury. The contiguity of 
his birth-place to the seat of Lord Newport 
was probably the means of introducing him to 
the notice of that nobleman. His father’s little 
property was so much encumbered as to prevent 
him from giving his son any education beyond what 
could be obtained from the village schoolmasters, 
who were neither competent teachers nor moral men. 
To Mr. John Owen, who kept the free grammar 
school at Wroxeter, Baxter acknowledges some obli¬ 
gations. Though he was at the head of the school, his 
attainments were very inconsiderable when he left it. 
His ambition was to enter one of the universities, to qualify 
himself for the ministry. Mr. Owen, his master, probably 
perceiving that he required more regular instruction than he 
could expect to receive from a college tutor, recommended him 
to Mr. Richard Wickstead, chaplain to the council at Ludlow, 
who had an allowance from government for a divinity student. 
Though the defects of his previous education were but ill sup¬ 
plied by this arrangement, his tutor being negligent, it gave 
him access to a good library, where he acquired a taste for 
those studies which he pursued with such indefatigable industry 
in after-life. Here he continued one year and a half, when he 
returned to his father’s house, and supplied for a few months 
the place of his old master at Wroxeter grammar school. 
Finding his hopes of going to the university disappointed, he 
resumed his professional studies under Mr. Francis Garbet, a 
clergyman of some celebrity, who conducted him through a 


RICHARD BAXTER. 


233 


course of theology, and gave him much valuable assistance in 
his general reading. While he was thus engaged, he wa^ sud¬ 
denly diverted from his pursuits by a proposition from his friend, 
Mr. Wickstead, to try his fortune at the court of his sovereign, 
Charles I. The project, singular as it was, seems not to have 
been unpalatable either to his father or the future Puritan divine. 
Theology was thrown aside, and Baxter went to Whitehall, spe¬ 
cially introduced to Sir Henry Herbert, master of the revels, 
as an aspirant to royal favour. His reception was courteous, 
nay even kind. For one month he mingled in the festivities 
of the palace,—a period which was sufficient to convince him 
of the unsuitableness of such a mode of life to his tastes, his 
habits, and his conscience,—he then returned home, and re¬ 
sumed his studies with a firm determination never again to be 
diverted from them. Before he went to London, his religious 
impressions were deepened by the perusal of Bunny’s Resolu¬ 
tion, Sibb’s Bruised Reed , and other works of the same kind. 
Some books which he read after his return increased that 
habitual seriousness natural to him, and which was probably 
strengthened by the example of his father. A protracted ill¬ 
ness, probably, under which he now suffered, completed the 
preparation of his mind for the reception of those impressions 
of religious duty under which he acted during the remainder 
of his life. 

While he was in this declining state of health, his anxiety to 
commence his ministerial labours overcame every other con¬ 
sideration. He applied to the Bishop of Worcester for ordina¬ 
tion, and obtained it, together with a schoolmaster’s license, for 
he had accepted the mastership of the free grammar school at 
Dudley, just then founded by his friend, Mr. Foley, of Stour¬ 
bridge. He was now twenty-three years of age, and as yet 
entertained no scruples on the subject of conformity, not hav¬ 
ing examined with any nicety the grounds of subscription. 
His attention was soon drawn to the debatable points of the 
controversy; at first the bitter tone of the nonconformists gave 
him an unfavourable impression of their character, although he 
admired their fervent piety and their energetic efforts to stem 
the moral corruptions of their times. 

At the end of nine months, Baxter removed from Dudley to 
Bridgenorth, where he acted as assistant to the clergyman. 

30 u2 


234 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


This release from school engagements must, to a mind such as 
Baxter’s, intent upon pastoral duties, have appeared a sufficient 
inducement for the change; btft in the then state of his mind, 
it was of still greater moment to him to be relieved from the 
prospect of having to renew his subscription. Here he expected 
to perform the humble duties of a curate without obstruction. 
But his hopes were soon frustrated by the u et cetera oath” as 
it was called, by which all who had taken orders were called 
upon to swear never to consent to any alteration in the cere¬ 
monial, or government of the church by archbishops, bishops, 
deans, archdeacons, &c. It does not appear that Baxter thought 
it necessary to observe the terms of this oath, for a complaint 
was laid against him for noncompliance with the ritual in 
various particulars. 

Baxter left Bridgenorth in 1640, on an invitation of the 
parishioners of Kidderminster to become the officiating minister 
at their parish church. The circumstances under which he 
settled at Kidderminster were favourable to his views; but it 
was not without considerable opposition from one portion of the 
community, whose vices he publicly reproved, that he carried 
some of his reforms into effect. Not satisfied with correcting 
the more flagrant offences of the inhabitants, he visited them 
at their houses, became acquainted with their families, gave 
them religious instruction in private, and became their friend 
as well as their pastor. Though a strict disciplinarian, he won 
the hearts of all, except a few who were irreclaimable. His 
preaching was acceptable to all ranks. Wherever he went, 
large audiences attended him; and his energy was so unremit¬ 
ting, that notwithstanding his feeble health, he preached three 
or four times in the week. 

During the civil wars, which at the time prevailed, Baxter 
held a position by which he was connected with both the oppo¬ 
site parties in the state, and yet was the partisan of neither. 
His attachment to monarchy was well known, though his ad¬ 
herence to the royalist party was not so certain: for the deep 
stream of his religious feelings drew his sympathies to the par¬ 
liamentarians, whose every-day conversations were imbued with 
the same feeling. The undisguised respect paid by him to the 
characters of some of the parliamentarians made him, with 
others, the object of jealousy and persecution. A clamour was 


RICHARD BAXTER. 


285 


raised against him, and the rabble, whose excesses had been 
checked by him, were eager to become the trumpeters of the 
charge. During one of these ebullitions of party excitement, 
he spent a few days among the parliamentary army, and was 
preaching within sound of the cannon while the battle was 
fought at Edgehill. His friends did not consider it safe for 
him to return to Kidderminster, and he retired to Coventry, 
where he resided two years, preaching regularly to the parlia¬ 
mentary garrison and to the inhabitants. After the battle of 
Naseby, in 1645, he passed a night on a visit to some friends 
in Cromwell’s army, and was offered the chaplaincy of Col. 
Whalley’s regiment, which, after consulting his Coventry friends, 
he accepted. In this capacity he was present at the capture of 
Bridgewater, and the sieges of Exeter, Bristol, and Worcester. 
He lost no opportunity of moderating the temper of the champions 
of the commonwealth, and of restraining them within the bounds 
of reason; but as it was known that the check proceeded from 
one who was unfriendly to the ulterior objects of the party, his 
interference was coolly received. Among the soldiers he 
laboured with unceasing zeal to diffuse a better spirit, and to 
correct those sectarian errors, as he considered them—anabap- 
tism, antinomianism, and separatism inclusive—which, in his 
view, were so productive of disputes and animosity. 

Illness compelled him to leave the army. After his recovery, 
he was to be found again at Kidderminster, exerting himself, 
with renewed vigour, to moderate conflicting* opinions. At this 
time the class of men of whom Baxter may be said to be the 
type, w T ere much perplexed by the conduct of Cromwell. For 
the sake of peace, however, they submitted to an authority 
which they deemed a usurpation; but nothing could purchase 
their approbation of the means by which it had been attained, 
or by w'hich it was supported. In open conference, Baxter did 
not scruple to denounce Cromwell and his adherents as guilty 
of treason and rebellion, though he afterwards doubted if he 
was right in so strongly opposing him. The reputation of 
Baxter was so great, that his countenance to the new order of 
things was highly desirable, and no pains were spared to obtain 
it. At the persuasion of some of his noble friends, he once 
preached before the Protector, who afterwards invited him to 
an interview, and endeavoured to reconcile him to the political 


236 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


changes that had taken place; but the preacher was not con¬ 
vinced by his arguments, and boldly told him that “ the honest 
people of the land took their ancient monarchy to be a blessing, 
not an evil.” The necessity of any alteration in the govern¬ 
ment did not come within the scope of his view. He looked 
with a single eye to the diffusion of a deeper spirit of religion 
by means of a purified church, beyond which he was not capable 
of carrying his views or lending his sanction. 

In the disputes which prevailed about this time on the subject 
of episcopal ordination, Baxter took the side of the Presby¬ 
terians in denying its necessity. With them he agreed, also, 
in matters of church government and discipline. He dissented 
from them in their condemnation of episcopacy as unlawful. 
On this great principle, namely, the sufficiency of the Scriptures 
to determine all points of faith and conduct, he wavered for 
some time; but ultimately adopted it in its full extent. Occu¬ 
pying middle ground, as he did, between Episcopalians and 
Presbyterians, it was not very obvious with which of the two 
parties he was to be classed. Had all impositions and restraints 
been removed, there is strong reason to believe he would have 
preferred a moderate episcopacy to any other form of church 
government; but the measures of the prelatical party were so 
grievous to the conscience, that he had no choice between sacri¬ 
ficing his opinions or quitting their communion. The views 
maintained by Baxter, blended as they were with the principles 
of monarchy, made them very popular towards the close of 
Cromwell’s career, when men were beginning to find that they 
had only exchanged one tyranny for another, and as some thought 
for a worse. In the sermon which Baxter preached before the 
parliament the day before they voted the return of the king, he 
spoke his sentiments on this subject with manly resolution, and 
maintained, in allusion to the political state of the country, that 
loyalty to their king was essential to all true Protestants of 
every persuasion. 

It was expected that, on the restoration of the king, modera¬ 
tion would have prevailed in the councils of the nation, and that 
a conciliatory policy would be adopted with regard to religious 
opinions. Some indications of such a spirit appeared in the 
appointment of Presbyterian divines among the king’s chaplains, 
and Baxter along with the rest. Many who had access to the 


RICHARD BAXTER. 


237 


king urged conciliation, and for some time their advice prevailed 
against the intrigues of court influence. Among other measures, 
a conference was appointed, consisting of a certain number of 
Episcopalian and Presbyterian divines, to devise a form of eccle¬ 
siastical government which might reconcile the differences and 
satisfy the scruples of the contending parties. Baxter and the 
Presbyterians were extremely desirous of bringing this confer¬ 
ence to a satisfactory conclusion; and Baxter himself drew up 
a reformed liturgy, which, with some alterations, he presented 
at the conference. The Presbyterians would have accepted 
Bishop Usher’s scheme as a model, with any alterations which 
might be mutually agreed on; but the bishops were secretly 
opposed to the arrangement, and finally frustrated it by carry¬ 
ing a declaration to the effect that, although all were agreed 
upon the ends contemplated in the commission, they disagreed 
upon the means. Now began an exercise of power by the 
bishops; having defeated the object of the conference, they 
next sequestrated the livings of all ministers who had been 
inducted during the protectorate. They then called for oaths 
and subscriptions, which had been suspended while there was an 
appearance of agreeing at the conference. In accordance with 
this demand, a law was passed in 1662, called the Act of Uni¬ 
formity, so strict in its requirements upon the debatable points 
of ceremonial worship, that it had the effect of banishing at 
once two thousand ministers from the pale of the English church. 
Of this number was Baxter. Previous to the passing of this 
measure, he had refused the bishopric of Hereford, and other 
preferments offered to him by Lord Clarendon, the chancel¬ 
lor, asking only one favour in lieu of them—to be allowed to 
return to Kidderminster: he even offered to perform the pas¬ 
toral duties without remuneration ; but this modest request was 
refused. 

On the 25th of May, 1662, three months before the day on 
which the Bartholomew act, as the Act of Uniformity was called, 
from its coming into operation on St. Bartholomew’s day, Bax¬ 
ter preached his last sermon in London, under a regular engage¬ 
ment in the church; and finding his public duties at an end, he 
retired, in July, 1663, to Acton, in Middlesex, where he em¬ 
ployed the greater part of his time in writing for the press. 
Some of his larger works were the fruit of this seclusion. His 


238 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


two most popular treatises, “The Saints’ Everlasting Rest” and 
“A Call to the Unconverted,” were published before he left 
Kidderminster, and raised his fame as a writer to a higher pitch 
than that which he had enjoyed as a preacher. Several attempts 
were made by the ejected ministers and their friends in parlia¬ 
ment to get the rigorous restrictions against them removed, but 
without success. The persecutions continued with unabated 
force. Even those who, like Baxter, disliked separation, and 
attended the worship of the church, suffered penalties for having 
morning and evening prayers in their houses. It was in the 
midst of these persecutions that the two awful calamities, the 
fire and the plague, occurred in two successive years, and dur¬ 
ing the misery caused by these two visitations, the services of 
the Puritan divines were so conspicuous, that the tide of opinion 
turned in their favour, and led to new efforts in their behalf, 
which ended for the time in the indulgence granted in 1672. 
This drew Baxter from his retirement at Totteridge, to which 
place he had removed on the suppression of his ministry at 
Acton. He now settled in London, and preached again as a 
lecturer in different parts of the city, but more constantly at 
Pinner’s Hall and Fetter Lane. His preaching, although highly 
acceptable to his more immediate friends, was never so popular 
as it had been at Kidderminster. While he advocated tolera¬ 
tion from an intolerant communion, he shone like a light in a 
dark place; but now that he was an apologist of conformity 
while he was a sufferer for nonconformity, his conduct involved 
a kind of consistency too refined for public admiration. An 
ineffectual attempt which he now made to combine the Pro¬ 
testant interests against Papal ascendency exposed him to vari¬ 
ous misrepresentations, to remove which, he published a vindi¬ 
cation of himself, entitled “ An Appeal to the Light,” but he 
did not eradicate the unfavourable impressions. 

His time was now divided between preaching and writing. 
For a while, he had a regular audience in a room over St. James’s 
Market-house, and at other places in London. But his public 
duties were frequently suspended by those rigorous enactments 
to which nonconformists were subjected during the last two 
reigns of the Stuarts. 

In 1682, the officers of the law burst into his house, at a time 
when he laboured under severe indisposition, with a warrant to 


RICHARD BAXTER. 


239 


seize his person for coming within five miles of a corporate town, 
and would have hurried him before a magistrate, had they not 
been met by a physician, whose interference probably saved his 
life, as well as obtained his pardon. Two years later, while his 
health was still in a precarious state from a chronic disease, he 
was again harassed by distraint and penal proceedings. Still 
later, it was his misfortune to be one of the many victims of 
the bloody and brutal Judge Jeffreys, whose language and inhu¬ 
man conduct to this pure-minded man is so graphically described 
by Macaulay. He was apprehended, on a chief justice warrant, 
on a charge of sedition, and of being opposed to episcopacy. 
This took place in 1685. The charge was founded on some 
passages in his “Paraphrase of the New Testament.” On the 
trial, Jeffreys, not content with using language the most oppro¬ 
brious to the prisoner and his counsel, acted the part of prose¬ 
cutor as well as judge, and scrupled not to gain his ends by 
silencing the accused, by insulting his counsel, by refusing to 
hear his witnesses, and by triumphing over his sentence. He 
said upon the bench “ he was sorry that the act of indemnity 
disabled him from hanging him.” His punishment was a fine 
of five hundred marks, to lie in prison till it was paid, and to 
be bound to his good behaviour for seven years. For the non¬ 
payment of this fine, he was committed to the King’s Bench 
prison, where he lay until November in the following year, 
having been confined about eighteen months. His pardon was 
obtained by the mediation of Lord Powis, and the fine was 
remitted. The solitude of his prison was enlivened on this, as 
on former occasions of trouble and privations, by the affection¬ 
ate attentions of his wife. Baxter lived to see that favourable 
change in reference to religious toleration which commenced at 
the Revolution in 1688. He died on the 8th of December, 1691, 
and was buried in Christ Church. 

Distinguished highly as this eminent man was as a divine, he 
was not less distinguished by his literary attainments. His 
practical and political divinity was produced with a rapidity 
almost unequalled. The catalogue of his works contains one 
hundred and sixty-eight distinct publications. His writings, 
for two or three succeeding generations, were text-books with a 
numerous body of Christians. In private life, his conduct has 
never been impeached. Correct and amiable in his deportment, 


240 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


he was honoured by some who held high places in his country. 
The pious, virtuous, and able lawyer, Sir Matthew Hale, was 
one of his ardent friends. Bishop Wilkins praised him by the 
words, “he has cultivated every subject he has handled;” and 
the well-known and able Dr. Isaac Barrow said of his writings, 
that “ his practical works were never mended, and his contro¬ 
versial ones seldom confuted.” 

It is lamentable to know that such a man was driven from 
his church by the laws of his native land; so it must be when 
it is thought to be necessary to fence in a church by human 
means. The fate of Baxter, reduced almost to want, confined 
to a prison, is a striking proof of the bad effect of laws supposed 
to be necessary to maintain an established religion in a country. 
Thus when the papal supremacy was destroyed in England, an¬ 
other supremacy was erected in its place; and it behooves all 
friends of religious liberty to do honour to those who have pre¬ 
ceded us in human progression, and who have sacrificed either 
life, liberty, wealth, or honour in support of this great principle— 
the birthright of man. Such a man was Baxter. In England, 
where the progress of civil liberty has been often checked, 
although, always progressive, there has been, and still is, a con¬ 
tinued struggle for the right to worship the Creator in the mode 
in accordance with the opinions and feelings of individuals: the 
struggle has been fierce, unceasing, and bitter. The history 
of the nonconformists carries the inquirer back to the reign of 
Edward VI.; for although the Reformation was effected in the 
reign of Henry VIII., yet it cannot be said that the Church of 
England received a definite constitution until the reign of 
Edward, his son and successor. The temporary restoration of 
the Roman Catholic ascendency, under Philip and Mary, drove 
the persecuted disciples of the reformed faith to France, Swit¬ 
zerland, and other countries. When Elizabeth ascended the 
throne, they returned with strong desires to purify King Edward’s 
church still further; however, the queen would not consent, and 
it was in her reign that uniformity in worship was first enforced 
by act of parliament. No worship was to be permitted except 
as prescribed in the Book of Common Prayer. This act was 
only partially carried into effect from 1558, when it was passed, 
until the year 1565, when it was rigidly enforced. Many 
ministers were deprived of their livings, and many were impri- 


RICHARD BAXTER. 


241 


soned. The severity increased until the year 1593, when the 
parliament declared that all persons above sixteen years of 
age who absented themselves for one month from church, should 
be banished the kingdom. In the succeeding reign of James, 
in the year 1604, the Book of Canons was passed by a convo¬ 
cation. It denounced severe temporal and spiritual penalties 
against Puritan divines, and was followed up by unsparing per¬ 
secutions. Charles I. adopted towards nonconformists the 
policy of his father. It was the great severity now practised 
towards the Puritans that first produced the ineffectual attempt 
to settle Massachusetts by self-banishment. Hundreds of cler¬ 
gymen were ejected for their opposition to the Book of Sports 
published by James I., and which Laud was now enforcing. But 
the cord had been drawn too tight. Laud was beheaded, and 
the monarch himself lost his life in the same cause. Unhappily, 
the patriots of those times forgot, when in power, the principle 
for which they had been struggling. Reaction ensued. Charles II. 
was restored without one single stipulation to insure the observ¬ 
ance of the principles of liberty; and tyranny and persecution 
reigned triumphant. In 1662, an Act of Uniformity was passed, 
the effect of which has been shown in this memoir. It was in 
this reign that the Five Mile Act was passed, which banished to 
that distance, from every corporate town in the kingdom, the 
nonconformist ministers, and forbade them to act as schoolmas¬ 
ters. The Conventicle Act also was passed, which subjected all 
who should presume to worship God otherwise than as the law 
enjoined, to fine and imprisonment, and punished the third 
offence with banishment. The Test Act was another of these 
barbarous laws. By this law no Englishman could hold any 
appointment, even that of a constable, without first partaking 
of the Lord’s supper in a church of the establishment. Thus 
matters remained until the Revolution of 1688, when the Tole¬ 
ration Act gave immunity to all Protestant dissenters, except 
Unitarians; this sect was placed in the same condition with 
other dissenters only within the last thirty years. Religious 
liberty made little or no progress from the period of 1688 until 
1828, when the Test and Corporation Acts were repealed, and 
in the following year the Roman Catholics were relieved from 
their disabilities. 


31 


X 


242 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ANNE HUTCHINSON. 



URING the administration of Sir Henry Vane 
as Governor of New England, Mrs. Anne 
Hutchinson arrived from England, and be¬ 
came a member of the Boston church. Of the 
early life of this lady little is known; she 
becomes interesting to us only after reaching 
America. She was then conversant with the 
various religious speculations of the day; she 
had examined closely the tenets of their princi¬ 
pal sects, and she possessed an acuteness of intel¬ 
lect and a vividness of imagination which rendered 
her arguments both searching and impressive. 

At that time the clergy of New England held 
weekly meetings for the purpose of instructing their 
congregations in the affairs of religion, and to impress 
upon their minds what had been said on the previous 
Sabbath. Mrs. Hutchinson instituted a similar practice for 
persons of her own sex, and her meetings were so numerously 
attended as to excite the alarm of the clergy. Which part first 
gave offence to the other, it would perhaps be impossible to 
ascertain ; but it is certain that, in a very short time, both 
acted in a manner entirely unbecoming. Mrs. Hutchinson was 
soon involved in personal disputes with the clergy ; the females, 
of course, took part with her; the people of Boston advocated 
her cause; and, from that time until Mrs. Hutchinson’s death, 
the colony was involved in a dispute so violent as to absorb or 
involve every other interest. Unfortunately for the authorities, 
they strove to prove Mrs. Hutchinson a heretic, instead of con¬ 
demning her for that of which she was really guilty—disrespect 
of themselves and evil speaking of their ministers. They have 
thus appeared in the eyes of posterity as persecutors for con¬ 
science’ sake, and, during the progress of the controversy, daily 
lost ground and excited sympathy for their opponent. It was, 
perhaps, in resentment of this conduct that Mrs. Hutchinson 


ANNE HUTCHINSON. 


243 


advanced her famous topic, “that the existence of the real’ 
spirit of the gospel in the heart of a man, even if that man 
should happen to be a minister of extraordinary gifts, could 
not be inferred with certainty from the outward displays of 
sanctity.” The proposition, as a proposition, is rigidly correct; 
but the clergy quickly imagined that, though general in terms, 
it was intended in spirit to be specially referable to them¬ 
selves. When we remember with what reverence the Pu¬ 
ritans regarded their ministers, we will be able to appreciate, 
in a faint degree, the effect which the promulgation of such a 
proposition would be likely to have. She was accused of “ dis¬ 
respect,” « libertinism,” “ familiarism,” “heresy,” and espe¬ 
cially of maintaining that sanctification is no evidence of justi¬ 
fication. These actions embittered the parties more and more 
against each other, and greatly strengthened Mrs. Hutchinson’s 
cause. New points of discussion were started, new doctrines 
attacked or defended, until the controversy became entangled 
in inextricable perplexity and confusion. In speaking of but 
one topic of Mrs. Hutchinson’s faith—that the Holy Ghost 
dwells in every believer—Governor Winthrop says, “ The ques¬ 
tion proceeded so far by disputation (in writing for the peace 
sake of the church, which all were tender of) as at length they 
could not find the person of the Holy Ghost in Scripture, nor 
in the primitive churches three hundred years after Christ.” 
It is now admitted that, by the above proposition, Mrs. Hutch¬ 
inson meant no more than that the possession of the pure spirit 
of Christianity in the heart constitutes the child of God. 

As has been elsewhere stated in this book, Mrs. Hutchinson 
was supported by Governor Vane. The Reverend Mr. John 
Cotton was also her proselyte. Governor Winthrop and Mr. 
Wilson led the opposition. The violence of the controversy 
was exhibited in the election which defeated Vane, and the 
conduct of the Winthrop party in that affair cannot be justified. 
Once possessed of the civil arm of power, Mrs. Hutchinson s 
opponents were not slow in applying it against the cause which 
they had been unable to overthrow by argument. Her brother- 
in-law, Mr.Wheelwright, a pious clergyman, was banished. Mrs. 
Hutchinson was herself brought to trial, and, after an examina¬ 
tion, “in which,” says Upham, “she exhibited the most extra¬ 
ordinary degree of talent, learning, skill, and fortitude, she was 


244 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


also ordered from the colony. She removed with her family to 
Rhode Island, where, without abandoning the principles for 
which she had so long suffered, she was permitted, under the 
mild government of Roger Williams, to enjoy entire freedom 
of conscience. It is worthy of mention that here the number 
of her adherents steadily decreased, while her presence was 
unattended with any of the commotions which, under the bigoted 
policy of the Massachusetts settlers, had threatened to destroy 
that colony. 

The life of this woman, so energetic and stormy, was des¬ 
tined to a tragic conclusion. On the death of her husband, she 
removed to Long Island. Here, in 1643, she and her whole 
family of sixteen persons were murdered by the Indians, with 
the exception of one daughter, who was carried into captivity. 
Such a fate might have drawn tears from the most obstinate of 
her opponents; but we record with a sigh that the news of it 
was received at Plymouth with satisfaction, and circulated as a 
proof of the righteous vindication of God’s cause. 

Of Mrs. Hutchinson it is difficult to form an impartial opi¬ 
nion. The writer of her life in the American Biography de¬ 
scribes her as “one of the most remarkable persons of her age 
and sex—learned, accomplished, and of an heroic spirit. Her 
genius was as extraordinary as her history was strange and 
eventful. Her abilities were equalled only by her misfortunes. 
With talents and graces which would have adorned and blessed 
the private spheres within which they ought to have been con¬ 
fined, she aimed to occupy a more public position, and to act 
upon a more conspicuous theatre, and the consequence was that 
she was hated where she would otherwise have been loved; a 
torrent of prejudice and calumny was made to pour over her; 
an entire community was thrown into disorder and convulsions 
for years; a most cruel persecution drove her from the pale of 
civilization, and she fell at last beneath the bloody tomahawks 
of murderous savages.” In summing up these items, we may, 
perhaps, conclude that, with a sincere desire after truth, her 
mind was sometimes warped by ambition and resentments, and 
that the consciousness of her own talent, and the superiority of 
her spirit to that of her opponents, betrayed her into actions 
and measures consonant neither with the female character nor 
the character of an apostle of truth. 


JONATHAN EDWARDS. 


245 


JONATHAN EDWARDS. . 



RESIDENT EDWARDS, the most celebrated 
metaphysical writer which America has yet 
produced, was born at East Windsor, Con¬ 
necticut, October 5, 1703. His father Timo¬ 
thy Edwards, pastor of the church in Windsor, 
instructed him in the ancient languages, and 
in September, 1716, he entered Yale College. 
Here the talents which afterwards rendered him 
conspicuous soon attracted attention. He de¬ 
lighted in abstract and metaphysical investigations, 
and when fourteen, read Locke with great attention. 
He had already conceived the design of a treatise 
on Natural Philosophy and Natural History, including 
Chemistry and Geology. He soon became a promi¬ 
nent student, equally remarkable for application and 
for good morals. In 1720, he took his first degree, but 
remained at Yale about two years preparing for the ministry. 
Afterwards he preached for about eight months in New York; 
but in 1723, he was elected tutor at Yale. He remained there, 
a close student, until 1726, when he received a call from the 
congregation in Northampton. Mr. Stoddard, the old minister 
at that place, was his grandfather; and it was a source of satis¬ 
faction to this venerable man to have one for his colleague 
and successor whose gifts were so abundant. The old man died 
in 1729, having found in his youthful colleague the prop of his 
declining years. Edwards now entered upon his career as an 
author. His Treatise on Religious Affections gained him wide 
celebrity, and was republished in England and Scotland. But 
an unfortunate occurrence took place, which eventuated in his 
separation from Northampton. It was then customary to baptize 
the children of those persons who merely made a profession of 




246 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


religion, without joining the church. Mr. Edwards took the 
propriety of this practice into serious consideration, and soon 
became convinced that it was wrong. In 1748, he published a 
quarto pamphlet, entitled “An humble inquiry into the rules of 
the Word of God concerning the qualifications for a full com¬ 
munion in the visible Christian church.” At the same time he 
publicly reproved certain irregularities, which had been committed 
by young persons connected with the principal families of his 
church. The Reverend Samuel Williams answered his treatise 
concerning church qualifications. Edwards replied; the dispute 
caused much contention in the different churches, and a council 
of the Northampton congregation advised Mr. Edwards to re¬ 
sign. He did so, in 1750. 

After a short period of repose, Mr. Edwards was invited to take 
charge of the congregation at Stockbridge. They elected him 
their missionary to the Indians, a choice in which the town 
cordially agreed. Here he remained six years, employed among 
both white people and Indians, and pursuing with ardour the 
speculations for which his mind was fitted. His greatest work, 
“ On the Freedom of the Will,” was composed during this period, 
and first published in 1754. It spread rapidly over Europe, 
and was considered, by those of consonant theological opinions, 
as the greatest work on the subject which had yet appeared. 
Several professors of divinity in the Dutch Universities sent 
him their thanks for the assistance he had given them “in their 
inquiry into some doctrinal points, having carried his own 
further than any author they had ever seen.” Although the 
book is written in opposition “ to Arminian principles and the 
Pelagian heresy,” it is highly commended by Dr. Priestley for 
its fairness. About the same time appeared the treatise on 
Original Sin. 

In 1757, President Burr of Princeton College died, and Ed¬ 
wards was elected in his place. He accepted the honour with 
reluctance, being then engaged on a “History of the Work of 
Redemption,” and a “View of the Harmony of the Old and 
New Testaments.” He reached Princeton in January, 1758. 
As the small pox then prevailed in New Jersey, he took the 
precaution to be inoculated. This brought on fever, succeeded 
by a cold and a sore throat, by which he died March 22, 1758. 


JONATHAN MAYHEW. 


247 


JONATHAN MAYHEW. 



AYHEW was born at Martha’s Vineyard, 
1720. He graduated with distinguished ho¬ 
nour at Harvard College, in 1744. While at 
college, he had given many proofs of genius 
and strength of mind, some of which were 
essays in verse. In 1747, he was invited to 
take charge of the West Church in Boston ; he 
accepted the. invitation, and was ordained on 
the 17th of June. Two years after, he pub¬ 
lished some sermons on “the difference between 
truth and falsehood, right and wrong; the natural 
abilities of men for discerning these differences,” 
&c. These gave him a name among the best preach¬ 
ers of that day, and are generally considered as his 
masterpieces. On the 30th of January, 1750, he 
preached a sermon, in which were “ reflections on the 
resistance made to King Charles.” It gave offence to members 
of the episcopacy, and seems to have been considered too se¬ 
vere by many of the New England dissenters. It passed 
through several editions in England; and as a proof of the 
admiration it elicited in Scotland, it may be mentioned, that in 
the following year, the University of Aberdeen presented Mr. 
Mayhew with a diploma of Doctor of Divinity. In 1754, he 
preached the election sermon, a memorable production, in which 
he traces the origin and end of civil government, and proclaims 
his adherence to the British Constitution, as determined by the 
Revolution. In another discourse, he more expressly declares 
his adherence to Whig principles. “ Having been initiated in 
youth in the doctrines of civil liberty, as they were taught by 
such men as Plato, Demosthenes, Cicero, and other renowned 
persons among the ancients; and such as Sidney and Milton, 
Locke and Hoadley among the moderns. And having learnt 
from the Holy Scriptures, that wise, brave, and virtuous men 
32 





248 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


were always friends to liberty; that God gave the Israelites a 
king in his anger, because they had not sense and virtue enough 
to like a free commonwealth, and that where the Spirit of the 
Lord is, there is liberty, this made me conclude that freedom 
was a great blessing.” 

After the great earthquake, November 23, 1755, Dr. Mayhew 
published two sermons, together with an “Appendix, giving a 
very particular account of the time, duration, process, extent, 
and effects of the great earthquake.” Soon after, he issued a 
volume* of sermons, inculcating the Christian graces and duties, 
in a plain and popular style. At the close of the book, is a 
discourse upon the shortness of life, with notes, containing stric¬ 
tures upon Solomon’s Song, and the doctrine of the Trinity. 
These drew upon him severe animadversions from those of the 
orthodox creed, and subsequently the doctor requested that they 
might be omitted in the London edition. In 1763, the publi¬ 
cation of Mr. Apthorp’s work on the “ Institutions and Conduct 
of the Society for Propagating the Gospel,” gave rise to a con¬ 
troversy, in which Dr. Mayhew, with other distinguished men, 
participated. He wrote a book, entitled “Observations on the 
Charters and Conduct of the Society for Propagating the Gos¬ 
pel in foreign parts.” A reply was made by several members 
of the society in America, and by Dr. Seeker, Archbishop of 
Canterbury. To the book styled, “ A Candid Examination of 
his Observations,” and supposed to be the joint production of 
Mr. Caner and Dr. Johnson, Dr. Mayhew replied, declaring the 
title-page to be false, and that the work was destitute of both 
candour and truth. This was followed by a second defence, 
written in a much more gentle spirit. Having printed two dis¬ 
courses on the “ Goodness of God,” he was attacked with con¬ 
siderable severity by Mr. Cleveland, of Essex county. To that 
individual, the doctor sent a “letter of reproof,” one of the 
most bitter of his productions, in which sarcasm and even per¬ 
sonal reflections were much too freely indulged in. An indivi¬ 
dual named Hopkins, wishing to draw Mayhew into a dispute, 
wrote a book, containing remarks on two of the doctor’s ser¬ 
mons; but of this attack the doctor took no notice. In 1765, 
Doctor Mayhew preached his Dudleian lecture on « Popish Idol¬ 
atry.” In the following year, he delivered a discourse on the 
“ Repeal of the Stamp Act.” He also printed two volumes of 


JONATHAN MAYHEW. 


249 


sermons, each on a particular subject, and a number of miscel¬ 
laneous sermons. His death occurred July 8, 1766, in his 
forty-sixth year. 

Doctor Mayhew was eminently a champion of liberty. Had 
he survived to see that great struggle which* at his death was 
just commencing, there can be no doubt that he would have 
been most strenuous in his efforts against the mother country. 
His was a boldness of spirit which astonished even the bold 
spirits of that age. He spoke with glowing sensibility against 
every priestly usurpation over the consciences of men, and 
with peculiar earnestness in favour of truth and religion. Many 
of the controversies in which he was engaged originated in 
his steadfast adherence to primitive gospel simplicity, in oppo¬ 
sition to the commandments of men. Unterrified by the me¬ 
naces of a powerful hierarchy, he stood up for the rights of 
conscience, and was not afraid to admire such men as Milton, 
Locke, and Sidney. He loved the British Constitution; but 
he opposed with all his might those who, assuming to be its 
protectors, were only using that instrument as a means to carry 
out their bad designs. It is to this independence of spirit that 
we are to ascribe, in a great measure, the caustic nature of his 
controversial style, of the impropriety of which, in calmer mo¬ 
ments, he himself was aware. On the whole, however, he may 
be considered as a bright example of the Christian life, and an 
effective pioneer in the cause of civil and religious liberty. 


32 


250 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


TIMOTHY DWIGHT. 



ORTHAMPTON, Massachusetts, has the ho¬ 
nour of giving birth to President Dwight. 
He was horn May 14,1752, and entered Yale 
College at the early age of thirteen. After 
graduating, he taught a grammar school at 
New Haven; but he left it in 1771, to become 
a tutor at Yale. When only seventeen, he had 
apportioned his time with accuracy, devoting 
eight hours to study, six to his school, and ten to 
exercise and sleep. When nineteen, he com¬ 
menced his “ Conquest of Canaan,” a scriptural 
epic poem, which he finished in 1774, but did not 
publish it until twenty-one years after. While teach¬ 
ing at Yale, he studied literature and the high mathe¬ 
matics ; and, as a proof of his devotion to learning, 
it may be mentioned that he attempted to dispense 
with the necessity of bodily exercise by restricting his diet. 
He was made Master of Arts in 1772, on which occasion he de¬ 
livered a Disquisition on the History, Eloquence, and Poetry 
of the Bible, which was published both in this country and Eu¬ 
rope. Laborious study brought on sickness; he was with diffi¬ 
culty removed to Northampton, and for some time his life was 
considered in danger. He was then advised by his medical at¬ 
tendants to exercise much in the open air, and it is recorded of 
him that in a year/’ he walked two thousand miles, and rode 
more than three thousand. By this means he restored his 
health, which remained good until his death. On resuming his 
studies, he engaged with more earnestness than formerly in 
that of theology; but the war with Great Britain sometimes 
affected even the quiet recesses of Yale, and, at length, in May, 
1777, the college was broken up. Dwight went with his class 
to Wethersfield, where he taught them until September. Mean- 



TIMOTHY DWIGHT. 


251 


while, he had been licensed to preach, and in September lie 
was appointed chaplain to the army. He not only performed 
the duties of that station faithfully, but also composed several 
patriotic songs, which were widely circulated, and contributed 
much toward exciting enthusiasm among the soldiers. At the 
death of his father, in October, 1778, he left the army, re¬ 
moved his family to Northampton, and assisted his mother in 
the support of her other children. Here he spent five years, 
labouring on the farm and conducting a school of his own esta¬ 
blishment, in which were employed two assistants. On Sab¬ 
baths he preached to different congregations in the neighbour¬ 
hood. His reputation as a teacher of the young, as a scholar, 
and as a minister, spread rapidly. He was twice elected a 
member, of the Massachusetts legislature. In 1783, he was 
ordained pastor of Greenfield parish, in Connecticut. About 
the same time he opened an academy in connection with his 
church. Pupils from all parts of the Union resorted to it, and 
it soon had a reputation higher than that of any similar insti¬ 
tution in our country. In twelve years he taught more than a 
thousand scholars. The institutions of learning in our coun¬ 
try vied with each other in doing him honour. In 1787, 
Princeton College conferred upon him the title of Doctor of Di¬ 
vinity, and in 1795 he was elected president of Yale. 

In 1794, Dr. Dwight published “Greenfield Hill,” a poem 
in seven parts, which, with his epic production, was republished 
in England. On entering upon his duties at Yale, he found 
the college in a languid state. The number of students was 
small; the directors were disheartened; the chair of theology 
was vacant, with but little prospect of having it filled. But 
Dwight’s reputation soon filled the classes. He volunteered as 
professor of theology, and remained in that station until his 
death. In 1797, he was requested by the General Association 
of Connecticut to revise Watts’s version of the Psalms, to sup¬ 
ply such as were‘omitted, and to prepare a collection of hymns 
for public worship. He accomplished this work, and, in 1800, 
submitted it to the consideration of a joint committee from the 
General Association and the Presbyterian General Assembly. 
Watts’s Psalms were considerably altered, and thirty-three of 
Dwight’s own composing added. 

President Dwight remained at Yale College until his death, 


y 


252 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

January 11, 1817. The nature of the disorder which termi¬ 
nated his existence was not distinctly understood. Besides the 
works already enumerated, he published others, which have 
been widely circulated both in this country and abroad. The 
principal of these are his Theology, a collection of lectures in 
that department, and the notes on his travels. The latter were 
composed hastily, during the rambles he indulged in at the sum¬ 
mer vacations, from the year 1796 to his death. It comprises 
sketches of the scenery passed over, and of the condition of 
society, together with notices and anecdotes of the eminent 
men of that period, including many Indians. These were first 
written for the gratification of his family; but, after the presi¬ 
dent’s death, they were collected and published in four octavo 
volumes. His death was deeply regretted both by the public 
and by his numerous religious and literary friends. 


ROBERT BOYLE. 


253 




ROBERT BOYLE, 



MAN of rare excellence and accomplish¬ 
ments, was one of those who do honour to 
high birth and ample fortune, by employing 
them, not as the means of selfish gratifica¬ 
tion or personal aggrandizement, but in the 
furtherance of every useful pursuit and every 
benevolent purpose. By the lover of science he 
is honoured as one of the first and most successful 
cultivators of experimental philosophy; to the 
Christian his memory is endeared, as that of one, 
who, in the most licentious period of English his¬ 
tory, showed a rare example of religion and virtue 
in exalted station, and was an early and zealous pro¬ 
moter of the diffusion of the Scriptures in foreign 
lands. 

Robert Boyle was the youngest son but one of a states¬ 
man eminent in the successive reigns of Elizabeth and the first 
James and Charles, and well known in Ireland by the honoura¬ 
ble title of the Great Earl of Cork. He has left an unfinished 
sketch of his own early life, in which he assumes the name of 
Philaretus, a lover of virtue; and speaks of his childhood as 
characterized by two things, a more than usual inclination to 
study, and a rigid observance of truth in all things. He was 
born in Ireland, January 25, 1626-7. In his ninth ye^r he 
was sent, with his elder brother Francis, to Eton, where he 
spent between three and four years; in the early part of which, 
under the guidance of an able and judicious tutor, he made 
great progress both in the acquisition of knowledge and in 
forming habits of accurate and diligent inquiry. But his stu¬ 
dies were interrupted by a severe ague; and while recovering 
from that disorder he contracted a habit of desultory reading, 
which it afterwards cost him some pains to conquer by a labo- 


254 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


rious course of mathematical calculations. During his abode 
at Eton, several remarkable escapes from imminent peril oc¬ 
curred to him, upon which, in after-life, he looked back with 
reverential gratitude, and with the full conviction that the 
direct hand of an overruling Providence was to be traced in 
them. 

Towards the close of 1637, as it should seem, his father, who 
had purchased the manor of Stalbridge, in Dorsetshire, took 
him home. In October, 1638, he was sent abroad, under the 
charge of a governor, with his brother Francis. They visited 
France, Switzerland, and Italy; and Philaretus’s narrative of 
his travels is not without interest. The only incident which we 
shall mention as occurring during this period, is one which may 
be thought by many scarcely worthy of notice. Boyle himself 
used to speak of it as the most considerable accident of his 
whole life; and for its influence upon his life it ought not to be 
omitted. While staying at Geneva, he was waked in the night 
by a thunder-storm of remarkable violence. Taken unprepared 
and startled, it struck him that the day of judgment was at 
hand; “ whereupon,” to use his own words, “the consideration 
of his unpreparedness to welcome it, and the hideousness of be¬ 
ing surprised by it in an unfit condition, made him resolve and 
vow, that if his fears that night were disappointed, all further 
additions to his life should be more religiously and watchfully 
employed.” He has been spoken of as being a skeptic before 
this sudden conversion. This does not appear from his own 
account, farther than as any boy of fourteen may be so called, 
who has never taken the trouble fully to convince himself of 
those truths which he professes to believe. On the breaking 
out of the rebellion in 1642, the troubled state of England and 
the death of the Earl of Cork involved the brothers in consi¬ 
derable pecuniary difficulties. They returned to England in 
1644, and Robert, after a short delay, took possession of the 
manor of Stalbridge, which, with a considerable property in 
Ireland, had been bequeathed to him by his father. By the in¬ 
terest of his brother and sister, Lord Broghill and Lady Rane- 
lagh, who were on good terms with the ruling party, he ob¬ 
tained, protections for his property, and for the next six years 
made Stalbridge his principal abode. This portion of his life 
was chiefly spent in the study of ethical and natural philosophy; 


ROBERT BOYLE. 


256 


and his name began already to he respected among the men of 
science of the day. 

In 1652 he went to Ireland to look after his property, and 
spent the greater part of the next two years there. Returning 
to England in 1654, he settled at Oxford. That which espe¬ 
cially directed him to this place, besides it being generally 
suited to the prosecution of all his literary and philosophical 
pursuits, was the presence of that knot of learned men from 
whom the Royal Society took its rise. It consisted of a few 
only, but those eminent; Bishop Wilkins, Wallis, Ward, Wren, 
and others, who used to meet for the purpose of conferring 
upon philosophical subjects, and mutually communicating and 
reasoning on their respective experiments and discoveries. 

At the Restoration, Boyle was treated with great respect by 
the king; and was strongly pressed to enter the church by 
Lord Clarendon, who thought that his high birth, eminent learn¬ 
ing, and exemplary character might be of material service to 
the revived establishment. After serious consideration he de¬ 
clined the proposal, upon two accounts, as he told Burnet; 
first, because he thought that while he performed no ecclesias¬ 
tical duties, and received no pay, his testimony in favour of 
religion would carry more weight; secondly, because he felt no 
especial vocation to take holy orders, which he considered in¬ 
dispensable to the proper entering into that service. 

From this time forward, Boyle’s life is not much more than 
the history of his works. It passed in an even current of tran¬ 
quil happiness and diligent employment, little broken, except 
by illness, from which he was a great sufferer. At an early 
age, he was attacked by the stone, and continued through life 
subject to paroxysms of that dreadful disease; and in 1670 he 
was afflicted with a severe paralytic complaint, from which he 
fortunately recovered without sustaining any mental injury. 
On the incorporation of the Royal Society in 1663, he was 
named as one of the council in the charter; and as he had been 
one of the original members, so through his life he continued 
to publish his shorter treatises in their Transactions. In 1662 
he was appointed by the king Governor of the Corporation for 
propagating the Gospel in New England. The diffusion of 
Christianity was a favourite subject of exertion with him through 
life. For the sole purpose of exerting a more effectual influ- 


256 


LIVES OP EMINENT CHBISTIANS. 


ence in introducing it into India, he became a director of the 
East India Company; and, at his own expense, caused the Gos¬ 
pels and Acts to be translated into Malay, and five hundred 
copies to be printed and sent abroad. He also caused a trans¬ 
lation of the Bible into Irish to be made and published, at an 
expense of <£700; and bore great part of the expense of a 
similar undertaking in the Welsh language. To other works 
of the same sort he was a liberal contributor; and as in speech 
and writing he was a zealous, yet temperate advocate of reli¬ 
gion, so he showed his sincerity by a ready extension of his 
ample funds to all objects which tended to promote the religious 
welfare of his fellow-creatures. 

In the year 1666, he took up his abode in London, where he 
continued for the remainder of his life. During the years 
1689-90, he gradually withdrew himself more and more from 
his other employments, and from the claims of society, to de¬ 
vote himself entirely to the preparation of his papers. He 
died, unmarried, December 31, 1691, aged sixty-five years, and 
was buried in the chancel of St. Martin’s-in-the-fields. 

To give merely the dates and titles of Boyle’s several publi¬ 
cations would occupy several pages. They are collected in five 
volumes folio, by Dr. Birch, and amount in number to ninety- 
seven. The philosophical works have been abridged in three 
volumes quarto, by Dr. Shaw, who has prefixed to his edition a 
character of the author and of his works. From 1660 to the 
end of his life, every year brought fresh evidence of his close 
application to science, the versatility of his talents, and the 
extent of his knowledge. His attention was directed to che¬ 
mistry, mathematics, mechanics, medicine, anatomy; but more 
especially to the former, in its many branches: and though he 
is not altogether free from the reproach of credulity, and ap¬ 
pears not to have entirely freed himself from the delusions of 
the alchymists, still he did more towards overthrowing their 
mischievous doctrines, and establishing his favourite science on 
a firm foundation, than any man; and his indefatigable dili¬ 
gence in inquiry and unquestioned honesty of relation entitle 
him to a very high place among the fathers of modern che¬ 
mistry. 


GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS. 


257 


GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS. 



YING under vassalage to the crown of Den¬ 
mark, during the fifteenth and the beginning 
of the sixteenth century, Sweden suffered the 
evils which commonly belong to that condition. 
Gustavus Vasa, after a series of romantic ad¬ 
ventures, established the independence of his 
country, and was deservedly elected by the 
Swedish Diet, in 1523, to wear its crown. The 
same kingdom to which he gave a place among 
free states, his grandson, Gustavus Adolphus, 
raised from the obscurity of a petty northern 
power, to rule in Germany, and to be the terror of 
the Church of Rome. 

The establishment of the Reformation was coeval 
with the independence of Sweden; and a fundamental 
law forbade any future sovereign to alter the national 
religion, or to admit Roman Catholics to offices of power and 
trust. For infringing this principle, Sigismond, by election 
King of Poland, the lineal successor of Gustavus Vasa, was set 
aside by the Diet, and the crown was given to his father’s 
younger brother, Charles, Duke of Sudermania. Charles died, 
and was succeeded by his son, Gustavus Adolphus, December 
31, 1611; the high promise of whose youth induced the States 
to abridge the period of minority, and admit him at once to the 
exercise of regal power, though he had but just attained the 
age of seventeen, being born December 9, 1594. 

He had been trained up in the knowledge likely to be service¬ 
able to a king and a soldier. He spoke the Latin language, 
then a universal medium of communication, with uncommon 
energy and precision; he conversed fluently in French, Italian, 
and German; he had studied history, political science, mathe¬ 
matics, and military tactics; and, commencing with the part of 
33 y2 



258 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


a musketeer, he had been made master, by practice, of all the 
details of a soldier’s life. He was capable of very severe appli¬ 
cation to abstruse study, and is said to have passed whole nights 
in reading the militar}^ history of the ancients. He was of 
uncommon stature and strength, and his constitution was early 
inured to labour and endurance. 

Gustavus’s situation, at his accession, was critical. The King 
of Poland laid claim to his dominions, and Denmark and Mus¬ 
covy were in arms against him. The danger was most pressing 
on the side of Denmark; and thither Gustavus’s first efforts 
were directed. But in Christian IV. he had to contend with an 
able enemy, from whom he gained no advantage; and after one 
unsuccessful campaign, he accommodated the quarrel at the ex¬ 
pense of some concessions. In the war with Muscovy he was 
more fortunate; and he reduced the czar to purchase peace in 
1617, by the sacrifice of the provinces which border the gulf 
of Finland and the Baltic sea. During these years of warfare, 
Gustavus found leisure to bestow attention upon internal im¬ 
provements. He devoted much thought and care upon strength¬ 
ening the Swedish navy, esteeming that to be his surest defence 
against invasion ; he sought to encourage commerce; he purified 
the administration of justice, by rendering judges less dependent 
upon the crown, and by abridging the tediousness and expense 
of lawsuits; and he laboured to devise means for increasing the 
revenue by judicious arrangement, without adding to the burdens 
of the people. Both in peace and war he received the most 
valuable assistance from his zealous, faithful, and sagacious 
minister, the celebrated Oxenstiern. 

In 1620, Gustavus travelled incognito through the chief towns 
of Germany. At Berlin he formed acquaintance with Maria 
Eleonora, sister to the Elector of Brandenburg, whom he espoused 
at Stockholm in November of the same year. One daughter, 
the famous Christina, his successor, was the offspring of this 
marriage. 

The King of Poland’s enmity was not seconded by his ability. 
He endeavoured in vain to shake the fidelity of Gustavus’s 
subjects, and he tried the fortune of war with no better success. 
In the contests between the cousins which occurred in the first 
ten years of Gustavus’s reign, the advantage was always on the 
side of Sweden. Gustavus was desirous of peace, and forbore 


GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS. 


259 


to press his superiority. But Sigismond’s hostility was nourished 
and stimulated by the leading Catholic powers, Spain and Aus¬ 
tria ; and he made so bad a return for this moderation, that in 
1621, the war was renewed in a more determined manner, and 
in the course of eight years Livonia, Courland, and Polish 
Prussia were gradually subjected to Sweden. During this 
time Gustavus was no careless spectator of the Thirty Years’ 
War, which was raging in Germany. However well inclined he 
might be to step forward as the defender of the Protestant cause, 
he could not do so with effect while his exertions were demanded 
in Poland; and though he made an offer of assistance to the 
Protestants in 1626, it was clogged with conditions which in¬ 
duced them to decline his proposals. But in 1629, under the 
mediation of France, he concluded a truce for six years with 
Sigismond, retaining possession of the conquered provinces ; and 
being thus relieved from all fear of Poland, and guarantied 
against injury from Denmark by the interest of that country in 
checking the progress of the Imperial arms, he found himself 
qualified to take the decisive part which he had long desired in 
the affairs of Germany. How far his determination was in¬ 
fluenced by personal and ambitious motives, how far it was due 
to patriotism and religious zeal, it must be left to each inquirer 
to decide for himself. The crisis was one of extreme import¬ 
ance : for the temporal rights of the whole German empire were 
endangered by the inordinate and seemingly prosperous ambi¬ 
tion of the House of Austria; and the Protestant states in par¬ 
ticular had reason to apprehend the speedy destruction of their 
own, and the re-establishment of the Roman Catholic church. 
And if the influence of the Emperor Ferdinand II., supported 
by the papal hierarchy, re-established in its great power and 
rich benefices through the north of Germany, were suffered un¬ 
checked to extend itself to the Baltic sea, the liberties of Sweden 
and Denmark, and the very existence of the Reformation on the 
continent, seemed to be involved in no remote danger. To pull 
down the power of Ferdinand and the Catholic league thus be¬ 
came of vital moment to the King of Sweden. But though the 
Protestant princes were ready to invoke his assistance in secret 
complaints, none of them dared to conclude an open treaty with 
a distant prince, and a kingdom hitherto obscure, and thus to 
incur the resentment of the emperor, whose formidable armies, 


200 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


anxious above all things for the renewal of war and rapine, were 
at hand. Moreover, the jealousy and selfishness of the chiefs 
of the Protestant union formed a greater obstacle to the King 
of Sweden’s views, than even the weakness of their individual 
states. Unable, therefore, to obtain the cordial and willing co¬ 
operation of those who were linked to him by the bond of a 
common interest, Gustavus had only the alternative to abandon 
them to their fate and share the dangers which he sought to 
obviate, or to take the equivocal and rarely defensible step of 
occupying their territories and compelling their assistance, an 
unsolicited, though an honourable and friendly ally. He chose 
the latter. 

The shortest apology for this determination, which, as a matter 
of policy, was opposed by Oxenstiern, m&y be found in the sub¬ 
stance of the king’s answer to that minister’s objections, as it is 
abridged by Schiller in his History of the Thirty Years’ War. 
“If we wait for the enemy in Sweden, in losing a battle, all is 
lost: all, on the contrary, is gained if we obtain the first success 
in Germany. The sea is large, and we have extensive coasts to 
watch. Should the enemy’s fleet escape us, or our own be beaten, 
it is not possible for us to prevent a landing. We must there¬ 
fore use all our efforts for the preservation of Stralsund. So 
long as this harbour shall be in our power, we shall maintain the 
honour of our flag in the Baltic, and shall be able to keep up a 
free intercourse with Germany. But in order to defend Stral¬ 
sund, we must not shut ourselves up in Sweden; but must pass 
over with an army into Pomerania. Speak to me then no more 
of a defensive war, by which we shall lose our most precious 
advantages. Sweden herself must not behold the standards of 
the enemy; and, if we are vanquished in Germany, it will still 
be time enough to have recourse to your plan.” t 

The army which Gustavus carried into Germany consisted 
only of 15,000 men; but it was formidable from its bravery, its 
high discipline, and the reliance which the general and the troops 
felt upon each other. “All excesses,” we quote from Schiller, 
“ were punished in a severe manner; but blasphemy, theft, 
gaming, and duelling met with a more severe chastisement. 
The Swedish articles of war prescribed moderation: there was 
not to be seen in the Swedish camp, even in the tent of the 
king, either gold or silver. The general’s eye watched carefully 


GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS. 


261 


over the manners of the soldiers, while it inflamed their courage 
in battle. Every regiment must each morning and evening form 
itself in a circle round its chaplain, and in the open air, address 
prayers to the Almighty. In all this the legislator himself 
served as a model. An unaffected and pure piety animated the 
courage of his great mind. Equally free from that gross incre¬ 
dulity which leaves without restraint the ferocious movements 
of the barbarian, and the grovelling bigotry of a Ferdinand, who 
abased himself in the dust before the Divinity and yet disdain¬ 
fully trampled on the necks of mankind, in the height of his 
good fortune Gustavus was always a man and a Christian; amid 
all his devotion, the hero and the king.' He supported all the 
hardships of war like the lowest soldier in his army; his mind 
was serene in the midst of the most furious battle; his genius 
pointed out the results to him beforehand: everywhere present, 
he forgot death which surrounded him, and he was always found 
where there was the greatest danger. His natural valour made 
him too often lose sight of what was due to the general, and this 
great king terminated his life as a common soldier. But the 
coward as well as the brave followed such a leader to victory, 
and not any of the her&ical actions which his example had 
created ever escaped his penetrating eye. The glory of their 
sovereign inflamed the entire Swedish nation with a noble con¬ 
fidence ; proud of his king, the peasant of Finland and Gothland 
joyfully gave up what his poverty could afford; the soldier will¬ 
ingly shed his blood; and that elevated sentiment which the 
genius of this single man gave to the nation survived him a 
considerable time.” 

Gustavus took a solemn farewell of the States of the king¬ 
dom, May 20, 1630, presenting to them his daughter Christina, 
as his heir and successor. Adverse winds delayed his departure, 
and it was not till the 24th of June that he reached the coast 
of Pomerania. He disembarked his army on the islands of 
Wollin and Usedom, at the mouth of the Oder, and, having 
taken possession of the strong town of Stettin on the same 
river, established a sure footing on the continent, and secured 
his means of retreat and communication with Sweden. To this 
proceeding he gained a reluctant consent from the Duke of 
Pomerania, who, though wearied and disgusted with the ravages 
of the Imperial troops, was unwilling to commit himself in de- 


262 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


fence of that which still appeared the weaker cause. But having 
no force to prevent the hostile, if he refused to warrant the 
friendly, occupation of his country, he made a virtue of neces¬ 
sity, and allied himself closely with the Swede. 

Gustavus’s progress at first produced no uneasiness at Vienna : 
the courtiers called him the snow-king, and said in derision that 
he would melt in his progress southward. But in the first cam¬ 
paign he nearly cleared Pomerania of the Imperialists; and he 
was strengthened by the accession of the Duke of Mecklenburg, 
who, having been despoiled of his territories in favour of Wal¬ 
lenstein, now openly raised troops in support of the King of 
Sweden. As winter approached, the Imperialists negotiated for 
a suspension of arms; but Gustavus replied, “ The Swedes are 
soldiers in winter as well as summer, and are not disposed to 
make the peaceable inhabitants of the country support any longer 
than necessary the evils of war. The Imperialists may do as 
they choose, but the Swedes do not intend to remain inactive/’ 

Meanwhile, he met with cold support from the Protestant 
princes, in whose cause he had taken arms. The chief of these 
was the Elector of Saxony, who felt a jealousy, not unnatural, 
of the power and the ultimate views of the King of Sweden, 
and was himself ambitious to play the first part among the 
Protestants of Germany. Seeking to act independently, and 
to hold the balance between Sweden and Austria, he invited the 
Protestant states to a conference at Leipsic, February 6, 1631, 
at which it was determined to demand from the emperor the 
redress of grievances, and to levy an army of 40,000 men to 
give weight to their remonstrances. On the 13th of January, 
Gustavus had concluded an alliance with France, by the terms 
of which he was to maintain in Germany 30,000 men, France 
furnishing a subsidy of $400,000 yearly, to use his best endea¬ 
vours to reinstate those princes who had been expelled from 
their dominions by the emperor or the Catholic League, and to 
restore the empire to the condition in which it existed at the 
commencement of the war. Richelieu tried to bring the princes 
who had joined in the convention of Leipsic to accede to this 
alliance, but with very partial success. A few promised to sup¬ 
port the Swedes when opportunity should favour; but the 
Electors of Saxony and Brandenburg kept aloof. During 
these negotiations, Gustavus made progress in Brandenburg. 


GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS. 


263 


The memorable siege and destruction of Magdeburg, May 10, 
by Tilly, for a time cast a gloom over the Protestant cause. 
Gustavus has been censured, both as a man and a soldier, for 
suffering that well-deserving and important place to fall without 
risking a battle in its behalf. His defence rests upon the in¬ 
terposed delays and the insincerity of the electors, which in¬ 
volved him in the risk of total destruction if he advanced thus 
far without having his retreat secured. But even this signal 
misfortune proved finally serviceable to the Protestant cause. 
It induced Gustavus to adopt a different tone with his brother- 
in-kiw of Brandenburg, who, finding no alternative but a real 
union or an open rupture with Sweden, wisely chose the former. 
The pride of success led the Imperial generals into acts of in¬ 
solence, which induced the Landgrave of Hesse Cassel, first of 
the German princes, to conclude a close and hearty alliance 
with Sweden, and left the Elector of Saxony no choice between 
entire dependence on the already exasperated emperor and an 
effective support of the only power that could protect him. 
Accordingly he formed a junction with the Swedes, and the 
united forces joined battle with Tilly, not far from Leipsic, Sep¬ 
tember T, 1631. The opposing armies were nearly equal in 
strength. The stress of the conflict fell on the right wing of 
the Swedes, where the king commanded in person. The fiery 
Pappenheim led seven impetuous charges of the whole Austrian 
cavalry against the Swedish battalions without success, and, 
seven times repulsed, abandoned the field with great loss. The 
Saxons on the left wing were broken by Tilly. But the day 
was restored by a decisive movement of the Swedish right wing 
upon Tilly’s flank, and the imperialists dispersed in utter con¬ 
fusion. Leipsic, Merseburg, and Halle speedily fell into the 
victor’s hands, and no obstacle existed to check his advance 
even to the heart of the emperor’s hereditary dominions. This 
was a tempting prospect to an ambitious man; but it -would 
have abandoned Germany to Tilly, who was already occupied 
in raising a fresh army; and the King of Sweden determined 
to march toward Franconia and the Rhine, to encourage by his 
presence the Protestants who wavered, and to cut the sinews 
of the Catholic League by occupying the territories and divert¬ 
ing the revenues of its princes. Bohemia lay open to the Elector 


264 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


of Saxony, and he left it to that prince to divert the emperor’s 
attention by carrying the war into that country. 

From Leipsic, Gustavus pursued his triumphant way to the 
southward. The rich bishopric of Wurtzburg fell into his 
hands almost without resistance. Nuremburg placed itself un¬ 
der his protection. The nobility and citizens of Franconia de¬ 
clared in his favour as soon as they were relieved from the pre¬ 
sence of the Imperial troops, and, when his drum beat for re¬ 
cruits, crowds flocked to the Swedish standards. He pursued 
his course along the Maine to Frankfort, which opened its gates 
and received a Swedish garrison, and, being strengthened by 4 the 
junction of the Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel with 10,000 men, 
he crossed the Rhine, and, after a short siege, became master 
of Mentz by capitulation, December 13, 1631. There he gave 
his troops a few weeks’ repose, being himself busily engaged in 
diplomatic labours. Early in the following year he completed 
the conquest of the Palatinate, and threatened to carry the 
war into Alsace and Lorraine. 

The advance of Tilly recalled the King of Sweden into 
Franconia, at the head of 40,000 men. Tilly then retreated 
into Bavaria, closely followed by the enemy, who passed the 
Danube at Donawerth, forced the passage of the Lech, and 
carried the war into the yet uninjured plains of Bavaria. The 
passage of this river in the face of the enemy, April 5, is re¬ 
garded as one of the King of Sweden’s most remarkable ex¬ 
ploits. His old antagonist Tilly received a mortal wound on 
this day. Munich, the capital and the greater part of the 
electorate, yielded without resistance. The emperor was now 
reduced to the greatest difficulties. Bohemia was overrun by 
the Saxons; the Austrian dominions lay open to invasion from 
Bavaria; Tilly was dead ; the Duke of Bavaria discouraged by 
his reverses, and inclined to purchase peace by consenting to a 
neutrality. There was but one man capable, by the charm of 
his name and the power of his talents, to compete with Gusta- 
vus, and he was Wallenstein. In his retirement, that wildly 
ambitious man had long been scheming to bring his master to 
such a degree of abasement as should enable him to dictate his 
own terms of reconciliation and assistance; and the time was 
come when the emperor saw himself obliged to consent to de¬ 
mands which almost superseded his own authority and invested 


GUSTAYUS ADOLPHUS. 


265 


his dangerous subject with more than Imperial power. For this 
event Wallenstein’s plans had long been maturing. A power¬ 
ful army started up at once at his command, and, when it suited 
his secret purposes to act, Bohemia was cleared of the Saxons 
more quickly than it had been conquered by them. He then 
formed a junction with the Duke of Bavaria, and at the head 
of 60,000 men advanced against Gustavus, who, not having above 
18,000 or 20,000 men with him, intrenched himself strongly 
under the walls of Nuremburg. Wallenstein took up a strong 
position against him, and the two generals, each hoping to ex¬ 
haust the other by scarcity of provisions, remained inactive till 
August 21, when Gustavus, having drawn together his scat¬ 
tered forces, made a desperate and fruitless attempt to carry 
the Imperial lines. Frustrated in this, he returned to his en¬ 
campment, which he quitted finally, September 8, and marched 
into Bavaria. 

Wallenstein followed his example on the 12th, and retired 
without any hostile attempt on Nuremburg. He had deter¬ 
mined to fix his winter quarters in Saxony, hoping by the ter¬ 
ror of his arms to detach the elector from the Swedish alliance, 
and had already advanced beyond Leipsic on his march against 
Dresden, when he was recalled by the rapid approach of the 
King of Sweden. Gustavus arrived at Nuremburg, November 1, 
and intrenched himself there to wait for reinforcements, which 
he expected. Wallenstein, in the belief that his adversary 
would be in no hurry to quit his strong position, proceeded to 
canton his troops near Merseburg, in such a manner that they 
might easily be called into action at the shortest notice, and 
detached Pappenheim, with a large division of the army, upon 
distant service. As soon as Gustavus heard of the latter move¬ 
ment, he marched in haste to attack the diminished enemy, and 
Wallenstein, though with inferior troops, was not slow to meet 
him. The King of Sweden’s last victory was gained Novem¬ 
ber 6, 1632, in the plain of Lutzen. Suffering from a recent 
wound, he did not wear armour, and, early in the day, as he 
mingled in the front of the battle with his usual ardour, his left 
arm was broken by a musket-ball. As he retreated from the 
press, he received another bullet in the back, and fell. His 
body was stripped by the Imperialists, a furious contest took 
place for the possession of it, and it was soon buried under a 
34 Z 


266 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


heap of slain. The Duke of Weimar took the chief command, 
and completed the victory. 

It was probably fortunate for Gustavus’s honour that his 
brilliant career was here cut short. He died when no more 
successes could have enhanced the fame as a soldier which he 
had already acquired—at a period, says Schiller, when he had 
ceased to be the benefactor of Germany, and when the great¬ 
est service that he could render to German liberty was to die. 
However pure his views had been at the commencement of the 
war, success had taught him ambition. This was shown by the 
homage to Sweden, which he exacted from Augsburg and other 
free cities of the empire, by his design of converting the arch¬ 
bishopric of Mentz into an appanage of Sweden, and by his reluc¬ 
tance to reinstate the Elector Palatine in the conquered Palati¬ 
nate, and the conditions which he finally exacted for so doing. 
And whether or not he aimed at the Imperial throne, it is pro¬ 
bable that his life and prosperity would have proved no less 
dangerous to the constitution of Germany and the welfare of 
the Catholic states than to the Protestant, the ambition of Fer¬ 
dinand II., and the Catholic League. But, dying thus early, 
he has preserved the reputation of sincere piety, humanity in 
the field, heroic courage, consummate policy, and skill united 
to success in the art of war, unequalled by any general since 
the downfall of Rome. Of the improvements which he effected 
in military tactics, we have no room to speak. A full account 
of them, and of his whole system, will be found in the Essay 
prefixed to Harte’s “ History of Gustavus Adolphus.” A more 
concise and spirited account of the King of Sweden’s exploits 
in Germany than is contained in that laborious book, will be 
found in Schiller’s “ History of the Thirty Years’ War,” which 
is translated both into French and English. 


BLAISE PASCAL. 


267 


BLAISE PASCAL. 



N June 19, 1623, Blaise Pascal was born at 
Clermont, the capital of Auvergne, where his 
father, Stephen Pascal, held a high legal 
office. On the death of his wife in 1626, 
Stephen resigned his professional engage¬ 
ments, that he might devote himself entirely 
to the education of his family, which con¬ 
sisted only of Blaise and of two daughters. 
With this view he removed to Paris. 

The elder Pascal was a man of great moral 
worth, and of a highly cultivated mind. He was 
known as an active member of a small society of 
philosophers, to which the Academie Royale des 
Sciences, established in 1666, owed its origin. Though 
himself an ardent mathematician, he was in no haste to 
initiate his son in his own favourite pursuits; but, having 
a notion, not very uncommon, that the cultivation of the exact 
sciences is unfriendly to a taste for general literature, he began 
with the study of languages; and, notwithstanding many plain 
indications of the natural bent of his son’s genius, he forbade 
him to meddle, even in thought, with the mathematics. Nature 
was too strong for parental authority. The boy, having ex¬ 
tracted from his father some hints as to the subject matter of 
geometry, went to work by himself, drawing circles and lines, 
or, as he called them in his ignorance of the received nomen¬ 
clature, rounds and bars, and investigating and proving the 
properties of his various figures, till, without help of a book or 
oral instruction of any kind, he had advanced as far as the 
thirty-second proposition of the first book of Euclid. He had 
perceived that the three angles of a triangle are together equal 
to two right ones, and was searching for a satisfactory proof, 
when his father surprised him in his forbidden speculations. 


268 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


The figures drawn on the walls of his bed-chamber told the tale, 
and a few questions proved that his head had been employed 
as well as his fingers. He was at this time twelve years old. 
All attempts at restriction were now abandoned. A copy of 
Euclid’s Elements was put into his hands by his father himself, 
and Blaise became a confirmed geometrician. At sixteen he 
composed a treatise on the Conic Sections, which had sufficient 
merit to induce Descartes obstinately to attribute the authorship 
to the elder Pascal or Desargues. 

Such was his progress in a study which was admitted only as 
the amusement of his idle hours. His labours under his father’s 
direction were given to the ancient classics. 

Some years after this, the elder Pascal had occasion to em¬ 
ploy his son in making calculations for him. To facilitate his 
labour, Blaise Pascal, then in his nineteenth year, invented his 
famous arithmetical machine, which is said to have fully answered 
its purpose. He sent this machine with a letter to Christina, 
the celebrated Queen of Sweden. The possibility of rendering 
such inventions generally useful has been stoutly disputed since 
the days of Pascal. This question will soon perhaps be set at 
rest, if it may not be considered as already answered, by the 
scientific labours of an accomplished mathematician of our own 
time. 

It should be remarked that Pascal, while he regarded geome¬ 
try as affording the highest exercise of the powers of the human 
mind, held in very low estimation the importance of its practical 
results. Hence his speculations w r ere irregularly turned to 
various unconnected subjects, as his curiosity might happen to 
be excited by them. The late creation of a sound system of 
experimental philosophy by Galileo had roused an irresistible 
spirit of inquiry, which was every day exhibiting new marvels; 
but time was wanted to develope the valuable fruits of its dis¬ 
coveries, which have since connected the most abstruse specula¬ 
tions of the philosopher with the affairs of common life. 

There is no doubt that his studious hours produced much that 
has been lost to the world; but many proofs remain of his per¬ 
severing activity in the course which he had chosen. Among 
them may be mentioned his Arithmetical Triangle, with the 
treatises arising out of it, and his investigations of certain 
problems relating to the curve called by mathematicians the 


BLAISE PASCAL. 


269 


Cycloid, to which he turned his mind, towards the close of his 
life, to divert his thoughts in a season of severe suffering. For 
the solution of these problems, according to the fashion of the 
times, he publicly offered a prize, for which La Loubere and 
our own countryman Wallis contended. It was adjudged that 
neither had fulfilled the proposed conditions; and Pascal pub¬ 
lished his own solutions, which raised the admiration of the 
scientific world. The Arithmetical Triangle owed its existence 
to questions proposed to him by a friend respecting the calcu¬ 
lation of probabilities in games of chance. Under this name is 
denoted a peculiar arrangement of numbers in certain propor¬ 
tions, from which the answers to various questions of chances, 
the involution of binomials, and other algebraical problems, may 
be readily obtained. This invention led him to inquire further 
into the theory of chances; and he may be considered as one 
of the founders of that branch of analysis, which has grown into 
such importance in the hands of La Place. 

His fame as a man of science does not rest solely on his 
labours in geometry. As an experimentalist he has earned no 
vulgar celebrity. He was a young man when the interesting 
discoveries in pneumatics were working a grand revolution in 
natural philosophy. The experiments of Torricelli had proved, 
what his great master Galileo had conjectured, the weight and 
pressure of the air, and had given a rude shock to the old 
doctrine of the schools that “Nature abhors a vacuum;” but 
many still clung fondly to the old way, and, when pressed with 
the fact that fluids rise in an exhausted tube to a certain height, 
and will rise no higher, though with a vacuum above them, still 
asserted that the fluids rose because nature abhors a vacuum, 
but qualified their assertion with an admission that she had 
some moderation in her abhorrence. Having satisfied himself 
by his own experiments of the truth of Torricelli’s theory, 
Pascal with his usual sagacity devised the means of satisfying 
all who were capable of being convinced. He reasoned that if, 
according to the new theory, founded on the experiments made 
with mercury, the weight and general pressure of the air forced 
up the mercury in the tube, the height of the mercury would 
be in proportion to the height of the column of incumbent air; 
in other words, that the mercury would be lower at the top of 
a mountain than at the bottom of it: on the other hand, that 


270 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


if the old answer were the right one, no difference would appear 
from the change of situation. Accordingly, he directed the 
experiment to be made on the Puy de D6me, a lofty mountain 
in Auvergne, and the height of the barometer at the top and 
bottom of the mountain being taken at the same moment, a 
difference of more than three inches was observed. This set 
the question at rest for ever. The particular notice which we 
have taken of this celebrated experiment, made in his twenty- 
fifth year, may be justified by the importance attached to it by 
no mean authority. Sir John Herschell observes, in his Dis¬ 
course on the Study of Natural Philosophy, page 230, that “it 
tended perhaps more powerfully than any thing which had pre¬ 
viously been done in science to confirm in the minds of men 
that disposition to experimental verification which had scarcely 
yet taken full and secure root.” 

Whatever may be the value of the fruits of Pascal’s genius, 
it should be remembered that they were all produced within the 
space of a life which did not number forty years, and that he 
was so miserably the victim of disease that from the time of 
boyhood he never passed a day without pain. 

His health had probably been impaired by his earlier exer¬ 
tions ; but the intense mental labour expended on the arithmeti¬ 
cal machine appears to have completely undermined his con¬ 
stitution, and to have laid the foundation of those acute bodily 
sufferings which cruelly afflicted him during the remainder of 
his life. His friends, with the hope of checking the evil, sought 
to withdraw him from his studies, and tempted him into various 
modes of relaxation. But the remedy was applied too late. 
The death of his father, in 1651, and the retirement of his un¬ 
married sister from the world to join the devout recluses of 
Port Royal-des-Champs, released him from all restraint. He 
sadly abused this liberty, until the frightful aggravation of his 
complaints obliged him to abandon altogether his scientific 
pursuits, and reluctantly to follow the advice of his physicians, 
to mix more freely in general society. He obtained some relief 
from medicine and change of habits: but, in 1654, an accident 
both made his recovery hopeless, and destroyed the relish which 
he had begun to feel for social life. He was in his carriage on 
the Pont de Neuilly, at a part of the bridge which was unpro¬ 
tected by a parapet, when two of the horses became unruly, 


BLAISE PASCAL. 


271 


and plunged into the Seine. The traces broke, and Pascal was 
thus saved from instant death. He considered that he had 
received a providential warning of the uncertainty of life, and 
retired finally from the world, to make more earnest preparation 
for eternity. This accident gave the last shock to his already 
shattered nerves, and to a certain extent disordered his imagi¬ 
nation. The image of his late danger was continually before 
him, and at times he fancied himself on the brink of a precipice. 
The evil probably was increased by the rigid seclusion to which 
from this time he condemned himself, and by the austerities 
which he inflicted on his exhausted frame. His powerful in¬ 
tellect survived the wreck of his constitution, and he gave ample 
proof to the last that its vigour was unimpaired. 

In his religious opinions he agreed with the Jansenists, and, 
without being formally enrolled in their society, was on terms 
of intimate friendship with those pious and learned members of % 
the sect, who had established themselves in the wilds of Port 
Royal. His advocacy of their cause at a critical time was so 
important to his fame and to literature, that a few words may 
be allowed on the circumstances which occasioned it. 

The Jansenists, though they earnestly deprecated the name 
of heretics, and were most fiercely opposed to the Huguenots 
and other Protestants, did in fact nearly approach, in many 
points, the reformed churches, and departed widely from the 
fashionable standard of orthodoxy in their own communion. 
They were in the first instance brought into collision with their 
great enemies, the Jesuits, by the opinions which they held on 
the subjects of grace and free-will. As the controversy pro¬ 
ceeded, the points of difference between the contending parties 
became more marked and more numerous. The rigid system 
of morals taught and observed by the Jansenists, and the 
superior regard which they paid to personal holiness in com¬ 
parison with ceremonial worship, appeared in advantageous 
contrast with the lax morality and formal religion of the Jesuits. 
Hence, though there was much that was repulsive in their dis¬ 
cipline, and latterly, not a little that was exceptionable in their 
conduct, they could reckon in their ranks many of the most 
enlightened as well as the most pious Christians in France. It 
was natural that Pascal, who was early impressed with the 
deepest reverence for religion, should be attracted to a party 


272 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


which seemed at least to he in earnest, while others were asleep; 
and it is more a matter of regret than of surprise, that latterly, 
in his state of physical weakness and nervous excitement, he 
should have been partially warped from his sobriety by inter¬ 
course with men whose Christian zeal was in too many instances 
disfigured by a visionary and enthusiastic spirit. The papal 
court at first dealt with them tenderly; for it was, in truth, no 
easy matter to condemn their founder, Jansenius, without con¬ 
demning its own great doctor, the celebrated Augustin. But 
the vivacious doctors of the Sorbonne, on the publication of a 
letter by the Jansenist Arnauld, took fire, and by their eager¬ 
ness kindled a flame that wellnigh consumed their own church. 

While they were in deliberation on the misdoings of Arnauld, 
Pascal put forth, under the name of Louis de Montalte, the 
first of that series of letters to “a friend in the country,”—& 
un provincial par un de ses amis—which, when afterwards col¬ 
lected, received, by an absurd misnomer, the title of the Pro¬ 
vincial Letters of Pascal. In these letters, after having ex¬ 
hibited in a light irresistibly ludicrous, the disputes of the 
Sorbonne, he proceeds with the same weapon of ridicule, all- 
powerful in his hand, to hold forth to derision and contempt the 
profligate casuistry of the Jesuits. For much of his matter he 
was undoubtedly indebted to his Jansenist friends; and it is 
commonly said that he was taught by them to reproach unfairly 
the whole body of Jesuits with the faults of some obscure 
writers of their order. These writers, however, were at least 
well known to the Jesuits; their writings had gone through 
numerous editions with approbation, and had infused some por¬ 
tion of their spirit into more modern and popular tracts. 
Moreover, the Society of Jesuits, constituted as it was, had 
ready means of relieving itself from the discredit of such in¬ 
famous publications; yet among the many works which by 
their help found a place in the index of prohibited books, Pascal 
might have looked in vain for the works of their own Escobar. 
However this may be, it is universally acknowledged that the 
credit of the Jesuits sunk under the blow, that these letters are 
a splendid monument of the genius of Pascal, and that, as a 
literary work, they have placed him in the very first rank among 
the French classics. 

It seems that he had formed a design, even in the height of 


BLAISE PASCAL. 


273 


his scientific ardour, of executing some great work for the 
benefit of religion. This design took a more definite shape 
after his retirement, and he communicated orally to his friends 
the sketch of a comprehensive work on the Evidences of Chris¬ 
tianity, which his early death, together with his increasing 
bodily infirmities, prevented him from completing. Nothing 
was left but unconnected fragments, containing for the most 
part his thoughts on subjects apparently relating to his great 
design, hastily written on small scraps of paper, without order 
or arrangement of any kind. They were published in 1670, 
with some omissions, by his friends of Port Koyal, and were 
afterwards given to the world entire, under the title of the 
Thoughts of Pascal. Many of the thoughts are such as we 
should expect from a man who, with a mind distinguished for 
its originality, with an intimate knowledge of Scripture, and 
lively piety, had meditated much and earnestly on the subject 
of religion. In a book so published, it is of course easy enough 
to find matter for censure and minute criticism; but most Chris¬ 
tian writers have been content to bear testimony to its beauties, 
and to borrow largely from its rich and varied stores. Among 
the editors of the Thoughts of Pascal are found Condorcet and 
Voltaire, who enriched their editions with a commentary. With 
what sort of spirit they entered on their work may be guessed 
from Voltaire’s well-known advice to his brother philosopher:— 
“ Never be weary, my friend, of repeating that the brain of 
Pascal was turned after his accident on the Pont de Neuilly.’ r 
Condorcet was not the man to be weary in such an employment; 
but here he had to deal with stubborn facts. The brain of 
Pascal produced after the accident not only the Thoughts, but 
also the Provincial Letters, and the various treatises on the 
Cycloid, the last of which was written not long before his death. 

He died August 19th, 1662, aged thirty-nine years and two 
months. 

By those who knew him personally, he is said to have been 
modest and reserved in his manners, but withal, ready to enliven 
conversation with that novelty of remark and variety of in¬ 
formation which might be expected from his well-stored and 
original mind. That spirit of raillery which should belong to 
the author of the Provincial Letters showed itself also occa- 
35 


274 


LIVES OP EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


sionally in his talk, but always with a cautious desire not to 
give needless pain or offence. 

He seemed to have constantly before his eyes the privations 
and sufferings to which a large portion of the human race is 
exposed, and to receive almost with trembling those indulgences 
which were denied to others. Thus, when curtailing his own 
comforts that he might perform more largely the duties of 
charity, he seemed only to be disencumbering himself of that 
which he could not safely retain. 

As a philosopher, it is the great glory of Pascal that he is 
numbered with that splendid phalanx which, in the seventeenth 
century, following the path opened by Galileo, assisted to over¬ 
throw the tyranny of the schools, and to break down the fences 
which for ages had obstructed the progress of real knowledge; 
men who were indeed benefactors to science, and who have also 
left behind them for general use an encouraging proof that the 
most inveterate prejudices, the most obstinate attachment to 
established errors, and hostility to improvement, may be over¬ 
come by resolute perseverance and a bold reliance on the final 
victory of truth. No one, however, will coldly measure the 
honour due to this extraordinary man by his actual contribu¬ 
tions to the cause of science or literature. The genius of the 
child anticipated manhood: his more matured intellect could 
only show promises of surpassing glory when it escaped from 
the weak frame in which it was lodged. 

For further information, the reader is referred to the dis¬ 
course on the life and works of Pascal, which first appeared in 
the complete edition of his works in 1779, and has since been 
published separately at Paris; to the Biographie Universelle; 
and to the life of Pascal, written by his sister, Madame Perier, 
which is prefixed to her edition of his Thoughts. 


JEREMY TAYLOR. 


275 


JEREMY TAYLOR. 



F this great ornament of the Episcopal church 
did not hoast of an exalted lineage, he num¬ 
bered among his forefathers one at least (the 
worthy ancestor of such a descendant, Dr. 
Rowland Taylor, chaplain to Cranmer, and 
rector of Hadleigh) distinguished among the 
divines of the Reformation for his abilities, 
learning, and piety, as well as for the courage¬ 
ous cheerfulness with which he suffered death at 
the stake, in the reign of Queen Mary. Jeremy 
Taylor was the son of a barber, resident in Trinity 
parish, Cambridge; and was baptized in Trinity 
church, August 15, 1613. He was “ grounded in 
grammar and mathematics” by his father, and entered 
as a sizar at Caius College, August 18, 1626. Of his 
deportment, his studies, even of the honours and emolu¬ 
ments of his academical life, we have no certain knowledge. It 
is stated by Dr. Rust, in his funeral sermon, that Taylor was 
elected Fellow: but this is at least doubtful, for no record of 
the fact exists in the registers of the college. He proceeded to 
the degree of M. A. in 1633; and in the same year, though at 
the early age of twenty, we find him in orders, and officiating 
as a divinity lecturer in St. Paul’s Cathedral. His talents as a 
preacher attracted the notice of Archbishop Laud, who sent for 
him to preach at Lambeth, and approved of his performance, 
but thought him too young. Taylor begged his grace’s pardon 
for that fault, and promised that, if he lived, he w T ould mend it. 
By that prelate’s interest, he was admitted to the degree of 
M. A. ad eundem , in University College, Oxford, October 20, 
1635, and shortly after, nominated to a fellowship at All Souls 
College. It was probably through the interest of the same 
powerful patron that he obtained the rectory of Uppingham in 


276 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


Rutlandshire, tenable with his fellowship, March 23,1638. The 
fellowship, however, he vacated by his marriage with Phoebe 
Langsdale, May 27, 1639, who died in little more than three 
years, leaving two sons. 

Taylor attracted notice at Oxford by his talents as a preacher; 
but he does not seem to have commenced, during this period of 
ease and tranquillity, any of those great works which have ren¬ 
dered him illustrious as one of the most laborious, eloquent, and 
persuasive of British divines. The only sermon extant which 
we can distinctly refer to this period'is one preached by com¬ 
mand of the vice-chancellor, on the anniversary of the Gunpow¬ 
der plot, 1638. This piece requires notice, because it is con¬ 
nected with a report, circulated both during Taylor’s residence 
at Oxford and afterwards, that he was secretly inclined to 
popery. It is even said that he “wished to be confirmed a 
member of the church of Rome,”* but was rejected with scorn, 
in consequence of the things advanced against that church in 
this sermon. Of this whole statement, Bishop Heber, in his 
“Life of Taylor,” has expressed his disbelief; and the argu¬ 
ments on which his opinion is founded appear to us satisfactory. 
Not even during his peaceable abode at Uppingham do Taylor’s 
great works appear to have been projected, as if his amiable, 
affectionate, and zealous temper had been fully occupied by 
domestic cares and pleasures, and by the constant though quiet 
duties of a parish priest. The year 1642, as it witnessed the 
overthrow of his domestic happiness by his wife’s death, saw 
also the beginning of those troubles which cast him out of his 
church preferment—a homeless man. We do not know the date 
of the sequestration of his living; but as he joined Charles I. 
at Oxford in the autumn of the year; published in the same 
year, by the king’s command, his treatise “Of the Sacred Order 
and Offices of Episcopacy, &c.was created D. D. by royal 
mandate; appointed chaplain to the king, in which capacity he 
frequently preached at Oxford, and attended the royal army in 
the wars; it is probable that he was among the first of those 
who paid the penalty of adhering to the losing cause. Little 
is known of this portion of Taylor’s history. It appears that 
he quitted the army, and retired into Wales, where he married, 


* Wood, Athence Oxon. 



JEREMY TAYLOR. 


277 


became again involved in the troubles of war, and was taken 
prisoner at Cardigan, February 4, 1644. We do not know the 
date of his release, or of his marriage to his second wife, Joanna 
Bridges, a lady possessed of some landed property at Mandi- 
nam, near Golden Grove, in the Yale of Towy, in Carmarthen¬ 
shire, who was commonly said to be a natural daughter of 
Charles I., born before his marriage. But Heber conjectures 
that Taylor’s marriage was anterior to his imprisonment, and 
that his wife’s estate was amerced in a heavy fine, in conse¬ 
quence of his being found engaged in the royal cause at Cardi¬ 
gan. It is at least certain that, until the Restoration, he was 
very poor, and that he supported himself during part of the 
time by keeping a school. 

During this period of public confusion and domestic trouble, 
Taylor composed an “Apology for authorized and set Forms 
of Liturgy,” published in 1646, and his great work, a “Dis¬ 
course on the Liberty of Prophesying,” published in 1647, “the 
first attempt on record to conciliate the minds of Christians to 
the reception of a doctrine which, though now the rule of action 
professed by all Christian sects, was then, by all sects alike, 
regarded as a perilous and portentous novelty.”* As such, it 
was received with distrust, if not disapprobation, by all parties; 
and if it was intended to inculcate upon the Episcopalians the 
propriety of conceding something to the prejudices of their op¬ 
ponents, as well as to procure an alleviation of the oppression 
exercised on the Episcopal church, we may see in the conduct 
of the government after the Restoration, that Taylor preached 
a doctrine for which neither the one nor the other were then 
ripe. It is the more to his honour that in this important point 
of Christian charity he had advanced beyond his own party, as- 
well as those by whom his party was then persecuted. But 
though his views were extended enough to meet with disappro¬ 
bation from his contemporaries, he gives a greater latitude to 
the civil power in repressing error by penal means than the 
general practice, at least in Protestant countries, would now 
grant. “ The forbearance which he claims, he claims for those 
Christians only who unite in the confession of the Apostles’ 
Creed,” and he advocates the drawing together of all who will 


* Heber’s Life of Taylor, p. xxvii. 
2 A 




278 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


subscribe to that ancient and comprehensive form of belief into 
one church, forgetting differences which do not involve the fun¬ 
damental points of Christianity. And he inculcates the “ dan¬ 
ger and impropriety of driving men into schism by multiplying 
symbols and subscriptions, and contracting the bounds of com¬ 
munion, and the still greater wickedness of regarding all dis¬ 
crepant opinions as damnable in the life to come, and in the 
present capital.” For a fuller account of this remarkable work, 
we refer to the Life by Heber, p. 201—218, or, still better, to 
the original. 

It was followed, at no long interval, by the “ Great Exemplar 
of Sanctity and Holy Life, described in the Life and Death of 
Jesus Christ.” This, the first of Taylor’s great works which 
became extensively popular, is almost entirely practical in its 
tendency, having been composed, as the author tells us, with 
the intention of drawing men’s minds from controverted doc¬ 
trines, to the vital points on which all men are agreed, but 
which all men forget so easily. It is not an attempt to connect 
the relations of the four Evangelists into one complete and 
chronologically consistent account; but a “ series of devout 
meditations on the different events recorded in the New Testa¬ 
ment, as well as on the more remarkable traditions which have 
usually been circulated respecting the Divine Author of our 
religion, his earthly parent, and his followers,” set off by that 
majestic style, that store of illustrations derived from the most 
recondite and miscellaneous learning, and, above all, that fer¬ 
vent and poetical imagination, by which Taylor is distinguished 
perhaps above all the prose writers in our language. Such 
qualities, even without a digested plan and connected strain of 
argument, which, requiring a more continuous and attentive 
perusal, would not perhaps have made the book more acceptable 
or useful to the bulk of readers, insured for it a favourable 
reception; and the author followed up the impression which he 
had produced, at no distant period, by two other treatises of a 
similar practical tendency, which, from their comparative short¬ 
ness, are better known than any other of Taylor’s works, and 
probably have been as extensively read as any devotional books 
in the English language. We speak of the treatises on Holy 
Living and on Holy Dying. 

It has been mentioned that near Mandinam stood Golden 


JEREMY TAYLOR. 


279 


Grove, the seat of the Earl of Carbery, a nobleman distinguished 
by his abilities and zeal in the royal cause. He proved a con¬ 
stant and sincere friend to Taylor; and the grateful scholar 
has conferred celebrity upon the name and hospitality of Golden 
Grove by his “ Guide to Infant Devotion,” or manual of daily 
prayers, which are called by the name of that place, in which 
they, and many other of the author’s works, were meditated: 
especially his Eniautos, or course of sermons for all the Sundays 
in the year. 

Considerable obscurity hangs over this portion of Taylor's 
life: but it appears that in the years 1654-5, he was twice im¬ 
prisoned, in consequence of his advocacy of the fallen causes of 
episcopacy and royalty. At some time in 1654, he formed an 
acquaintance with Evelyn, which proved profitable and honour¬ 
able to both parties; for the layman, as is evident from his 
Memoirs and Diary, highly valued and laid to heart the counsels 
of the man whom he selected as his “ ghostly father,” and to 
whose poverty he liberally ministered in return out of his own 
abundance. 

We learn from Evelyn’s Diary that Taylor was in London in 
the spring of 1657, and his visits, if not annual, were at least 
frequent. He made many friends, and among them the Earl 
of Conway, a nobleman, possessed of large estates in the north¬ 
east of Ireland, who conceived the desire of securing Taylor’s 
eminent abilities for the service of his own neighbourhood, and 
obtained for him a lectureship in the small town of Lisburne. 
Taylor removed his family to Ireland in the summer of 1658. 
He dwelt near Portmore, his patron’s splendid seat on the banks 
of Lough Neagh; and some of the islands in that noble lake, 
and in a smaller neighbouring piece of water called Lough Beg, 
are still recorded, by the traditions of the peasantry, to have 
been his favourite places of study and retirement. To this 
abode, his letters show him to have been much attached. 

In the spring of 1660, Taylor visited London to superintend 
in its passage through the press the “Rule of Conscience, or 
Ductor Dubitantium.” This, it appears from the author’s let¬ 
ters, was considerably advanced so early as the year 1655. It 
was the fruit of much time, much diligence, and much prayer; 
and that of all his writings concerning the execution of which 
he seems to have felt most anxiety. In this case, as it often 


280 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


happens, the author seems to have formed an erroneous esti¬ 
mate of the comparative value of his works. Neither, on its 
first appearance, nor in later times, did the “ Ductor Dubitan- 
tium” become extensively popular. Its object, which even 
at the first was accounted obsolete, was to supply what the 
Romish church obtained by the practice of confession, a set of 
rules by which a scrupulous conscience may be guided in the 
variety of doubtful points of duty which may occur. The abuses 
are well known, to which the casuistic subtlety of the Romish 
doctors gave birth; and it may be doubted whether it were wise 
to lay one stone towards rebuilding an edifice which the general 
diffusion of the Scriptures, a sufficient rule, if rightly studied, 
to solve all doubts, had rendered unnecessary. The work, in 
spite of its passages of eloquence and profusion of learning, is 
too prolix to be a favourite in these latter days, but it is still, 
says his biographer, one “ which few can read without profit, 
and none, I think, without entertainment. It resembles in some 
degree those ancient inlaid cabinets, (such as Evelyn, Boyle, or 
Wilkins might have bequeathed to their descendants,) whose 
multifarious contents perplex our choice, and offer to the admi¬ 
ration or curiosity of a more accurate age, a vast wilderness of 
trifles and varieties with no arrangement at all, or an arrange¬ 
ment on obsolete principles, but whose ebony drawers and per¬ 
fumed recesses contain specimens of every thing that is precious 
or uncommon, and many things for which a modern museum 
might be searched in vain.” 

Taylor’s accidental presence in London at this period, when 
the hopes of the royalists were reviving, was probably service¬ 
able to his future fortunes. He obtained by it the opportunity 
of joining in the royalist declaration of April 24: and he was 
among the first to derive benefit from the restoration of that 
king and that church, of whose interests he had ever been a 
most zealous, able, and consistent supporter. He was nomi¬ 
nated Bishop of Down and Connor, August 6, 1660, and con¬ 
secrated in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, January 27, 1661. In the 
interval, he was appointed vice-chancellor of the University of 
Dublin, which, during past troubles, had been greatly dilapi¬ 
dated and disordered in respect both of its revenues and disci¬ 
pline. He was the principal instrument in remodelling and 


JEREMY TAYLOR. 


281 


completing the statutes, and settling the University in its pre¬ 
sent form. 

In the spring of 1661, Taylor was made a member of the 
Irish Privy Council, and the small diocese of Dromore, adjacent 
to Down, was assigned to his charge, « on account,” in words of 
the writ under the Privy Seal, “of his virtue, wisdom, and 
industry.” This praise wa^ well-deserved by his conduct in 
that difficult- time, when those who had displaced the Episcopal 
clergy Were apprehensive of. being in their turn obliged to give 
way, and religious differences were embittered by thoughts of 
temporal welfare. Taylor had to deal chiefly with the wilder 
and more enthusiastic party, and his advances towards an inter¬ 
course of Christian charity were met with scorn and insult. But 
his exemplary conduct and persevering gentleness of demeanour 
did much to soften at least the laity of his opponents; for we 
are told that the nobility and gentry of the three dioceses over 
which he presided came over, with one exception, to the 
bishop’s side. 

His varied* duties can now have left little time for the labour 
of the pen; still he published sermons from time to time, and 
in 1664 completed and published his last great work, a “Dis¬ 
suasive from Popery,” undertaken by desire of the collective 
body of Irish bishops. He continued, after his elevation, to 
reside principally at Portmore, occasionally at Lisburne. Of 
his habits, and the incidents of this latter part of his life, we 
know next to nothing; except that he suffered the severest 
affliction which could befall a man of his sensibility and piety, 
in the successive deaths of his three surviving sons, and the mis¬ 
conduct of two of them. One died at Lisburne, in March, 1661; 
one fell in a duel, his adversary also dying of his wounds; the 
third became the favourite companion of the profligate Duke of 
Buckingham, and died of a decline, August 2, 1667.. Of the 
latter event, the bishop can scarcely have heard, for he died on 
the 13th of the same month, after ten days’ sickness. He was 
buried at Dromore. Two of his daughters married in Ireland, 
into the families of Marsh and Harrison; and several Irish 
families of repute claim to be connected with the blood of this 
exemplary prelate by the female line. 

The materials for Bishop Taylor’s life are very scanty. The 
earliest sketch of it is to be found in the funeral sermon preached 
36 2 a 2 


282 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


by his friend and successor in the see of Dromore, Dr. Rust, 
who sums up the virtues of the deceased in a peroration of 
highly-wrought panegyric, of which the following just eulogy is 
a part—“ He was a person of great humility; and, notwith¬ 
standing his stupendous parts, and learning, and eminency of 
place, he had nothing in him of pride and humour, hut was 
courteous and affable, and of easy access, and would lend a 
ready ear to the complaints, yea, to the impertinence, of the 
meanest persons. His humility was coupled with an extraordi¬ 
nary piety; and I believe he spent the greatest part of his time 
in heaven. * * * To all his other virtues he added a large 

and diffusive charity; and whoever compares his plentiful income 
with the inconsiderable estate he left at his death, will be easily 
convinced that charity was steward for a great proportion of 
his revenue. But the hungry that he fed, and the naked that 
he clothed, and the distressed that he supplied, and the father¬ 
less that he provided for, the poor children that he put to 
apprentice, and brought up at school, and maintained at the 
university, will now sound a trumpet to that charity which he 
dispensed with his right hand, but would not suffer his left hand 
to have any knowledge of it. 

“ To sum up all in a few words, this great prelate had the 
good humour of a gentleman, the eloquence of an orator, the 
fancy of a poet, the acuteness of a schoolman, the profoundness 
of a philosopher, the wisdom of a counsellor, the sagacity of a 
prophet, the reason of an angel, and the piety of a saint; he 
had devotion enough for a cloister, learning enough for an uni¬ 
versity, and wit enough for a college of virtuosi; and had his 
parts and endowments been parcelled out among his poor clergy 
that he left behind him, it would perhaps have made one of the 
best "dioceses in the world. But, alas! ‘ Our Father! our Father! 
the horses of our Israel, and the chariots thereof!’ he is gone, 
and has carried his mantle and his spirit along with him up to 
heaven ; and the sons of the prophets have lost all their beauty 
and lustre which they enjoyed only from the reflection of his 
excellencies, which were bright and radiant enough to cast a 
glory upon a whole order of men.” 


SIR MATTHEW HALE. 


283 


SIR MATTHEW HALE. 



ATTHEW HALE was born on the 1st of 
November, 1609, at Alderley, a small village 
situated in Gloucestershire, about two miles 
from Wotton-under-Edge. His father, Robert 
Hale, was a barrister of Lincoln’s Inn, and 
his mother, whose maiden name was Poyntz, 
belonged to an ancient and respectable family 
which had resided for several generations at 
Iron Acton. Hale’s father is represented to 
have been a man of such scrupulous delicacy of 
conscience, that he abandoned his profession, be¬ 
cause he thought that some things, of ordinary 
practice in the law, were inconsistent with that literal 
0 and precise observance of truth which he conceived to 
be the duty of a Christian. “ He gave over his prac¬ 
tice,” says Burnet, in his Life of Hale, “because he 
could not understand the reason of giving colour in pleadings, 
which, as he thought, was to tell a lie.” 

Hale had the misfortune to lose both his parents very early 
in life, his mother dying before he was three years old, and his 
father before he had attained his fifth year. Under the direc¬ 
tion of his father’s will he was committed to the care of a near 
relation, Anthony Kingscote, Esq., of Kingscote in Gloucester¬ 
shire. This gentleman, being inclined to the religious doctrines 
and discipline of the Puritans, placed him in a school belonging 
to that party; and, intending to educate him for a clergyman, 
entered him in 1626 at Magdalen Hall, in Oxford. The strict¬ 
ness and formality of his early education seem to have inclined 
him to run into the opposite extreme at the university, when he 
became to a certain extent his own master. He is said to have 
been very fond at this time of theatrical amusements, and of 
fencing, and other martial exercises; and giving up the design 


284 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


of becoming a divine, he at one time determined to pass over 
into the Netherlands, and to enlist as & volunteer in the army 
of the Prince of Orange. A providential circumstance diverted 
him from this resolution. He became involved in a lawsuit with 
a gentleman in Gloucestershire, who laid claim to part of his 
paternal estate; and his guardian, being a man of retired 
habits, was unwilling to undertake the task of personally super¬ 
intending the proceedings on his behalf. It became necessary, 
therefore, that Hale, though then only twenty years old, should 
leave the university and repair to London, for the purpose of 
arranging his defence. His professional adviser on this occa¬ 
sion was Serjeant Glanville, a learned and distinguished lawyer; 
who, being struck by the clearness of his young client’s under¬ 
standing, and by his peculiar aptitude of mind for the study of 
the law, prevailed upon him to abandon his military project, and 
to enter himself at one of the Inns of Court, with the view of 
being called to the bar. He accordingly became a member of 
the society of Lincoln’s Inn in Michaelmas term, 1629, and im¬ 
mediately applied himself with unusual assiduity to professional 
studies. At this period of his life, he is said to have read for 
several years at the rate of sixteen hours a day. 

During his residence as a student in Lincoln’s Inn, an inci¬ 
dent occurred which recalled a certain seriousness of demea¬ 
nour, for which he had been remarkable as a boy, and gave 
birth to that profound piety which in after-life was a marked 
feature in his character. Being engaged with several other 
young students at a tavern in the neighbourhood of London, 
one of his companions drank to such excess that he fell sud¬ 
denly from his chair in a kind of fit, and for some time seemed 
to be dead. After assisting the rest of the party to' restore the 
young man to his senses, in which they at length succeeded, 
though he still remained in a state of great danger, Hale, who 
was deeply impressed with the circumstance, retired into another 
room, and falling upon his knees prayed earnestly to God that 
his friend’s life might be spared; and solemnly vowed that he 
would never again be a party to similar excess, nor.encourage 
intemperance by drinking a health again as long as he lived. 
His companion recovered, and to the end of life Hale scrupu¬ 
lously kept his vow. This was afterwards a source of much 
inconvenience to him, when the reign of licentiousness com- 


SIR MATTHEW HALE. 


285 


menced, upon the restoration of Charles II.; and drinking the 
king’s health to intoxication was considered as one of the tests 
of loyalty in politics, and of orthodoxy in religion. 

His rapid proficiency in legal studies not only justified and 
confirmed the good opinion which had been formed of him by 
his early friend and patron, Serjeant Glanville, but also intro¬ 
duced him to the favourable notice of several of the most dis¬ 
tinguished lawyers of that day. Noy, the Attorney-General, 
who some years afterwards devised the odious scheme of ship- 
money, and who, while he is called by Lord Clarendon “ a 
morose and proud man,” is also represented by him as an 
“ able and learned lawyer,” took particular notice of Hale, and 
advised and assisted him in his studies. At this time also he 
became intimate with Selden, who, though much older than 
himself, honoured him with his patronage and friendship. He 
was induced by the advice and example of this great man to 
extend his reading beyond the contracted sphere of his profes¬ 
sional studies, to enlarge and strengthen his reasoning powers 
by philosophical inquiries, and to store his mind with a variety 
of general knowledge. The variety of his pursuits at this 
period of life was remarkable: anatomy, physiology, and divi¬ 
nity formed part only of his extensive course of reading ; and 
by his subsequent writings it is made manifest that his know¬ 
ledge of these subjects was by no means superficial. 

The exact period at which Hale was called to the bar is not 
given by any of his biographers; and in consequence of the 
non-arrangement of the earlier records at Lincoln’s Inn, it can¬ 
not be readily ascertained. Jt is probable, however, that he 
commenced the actual practice of his profession about the year 
1636. It is plain that he very soon attained considerable repu¬ 
tation in it, from his having been employed in most of the cele¬ 
brated trials arising out of the troubles consequent on the meet¬ 
ing of parliament in 1640. His prudence and political mode¬ 
ration, together with his great legal and constitutional know¬ 
ledge, pointed him out as a valuable advocate for such of the 
court party as were brought to public trial. Bishop Burnet 
says that he was assigned as counsel for Lord Strafford, in 1640. 
This does not appear from the reports of that trial, nor is it on 
record that he was expressly assigned as Strafford’s counsel by 
the House of Lords: but he may have been privately retained 


286 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


by that nobleman to assist in preparing his defence. In 1643, 
however, he was expressly appointed by both Houses of Parlia¬ 
ment as counsel for Archbishop Laud: and the argument of 
Mr. Herne, the senior counsel, an elaborate and lucid piece of 
legal reasoning, is said, but on no certain authority, to have 
been drawn up by Hale. In 1647, he was appointed one of the 
counsel for the Eleven members: and he is said to have been 
afterwards retained for the defence of Charles I. in the High 
Court of Justice; but as the king refused to own the jurisdic¬ 
tion of the tribunal, his counsel took no public part in the pro¬ 
ceedings. He was also retained after the king’s death by the 
Duke of Hamilton, when brought to trial for treason, in taking 
up arms against the parliament. Burnet mentions other in¬ 
stances, but these are enough to prove his high reputation for 
fidelity and courage, as well as learning. 

In the year 1643, Hale took the Covenant as prescribed by 
the parliament, and appeared more than once, with other lay¬ 
men, in the Assembly of Divines. In 1651, he took the “ En¬ 
gagement to be faithful and true to the Commonwealth without 
a King and House of Lords,” which, as Mr. Justice Foster ob¬ 
serves, «in the sense of those who imposed it, was plainly an 
engagement for abolishing kingly government, or at least for 
supporting the abolition of it.” In consequence of his compli¬ 
ance in this respect, he was allowed to practise at the bar, and 
was shortly afterwards appointed a member of the commission 
for considering of the reformation of the law. The precise part 
taken by Hale in the deliberations of that body cannot now be 
ascertained; and indeed there are no records of the mode in 
which they conducted their inquiries, and, with a few excep¬ 
tions, no details of the specific measures of reform introduced 
by them. A comparison, however, of the machinery of courts 
of justice during the reign of Charles I., and their practice and 
general conduct during the Commonwealth, and immediately 
after the Restoration, will afford convincing proofs that, during 
the interregnum improvements of great importance were ef¬ 
fected ; improvements which must have been devised, matured, 
and carried into execution by minds of no common wisdom, 
devoted to the subject with extraordinary industry and re¬ 
flection. 

It was unquestionably with the view of restoring a respect 


SIR MATTHEW HALE. 


287 


for the administration of justice, which had been wholly lost 
during the reign of Charles I., and giving popularity and moral 
strength to his own government, that Cromwell determined to 
place such men as Hale on the benches of the different courts. 
Hale, however, had at first many scruples concerning the pro¬ 
priety of acting under a commission from a usurper; and it 
was not without much hesitation, that he at length yielded to 
the importunity of Cromwell, and the urgent advice and entrea¬ 
ties of his friends; who, thinking it no small security to the 
nation to have a man of his integrity and high character on the 
bench, spared no pains to satisfy his conscientious scruples. He 
was made a serjeant, and raised to the bench of the Court of 
Common Pleas in January, 1653-4. 

Soon after he became a judge, he was returned to Cromwell’s 
first parliament of five months, as one of the knights of the 
shire for the county of Gloucester, but he does not appear to 
have taken a very active part in the proceedings of that assem¬ 
bly. Burnet says that “ he, with a great many others, came 
to parliaments, more out of a design to hinder mischief than to 
do much good.” On one occasion, however, he did a service to 
his country, for which all subsequent generations have reason 
to be grateful, by opposing the proposition of a party of frantic 
enthusiasts to destroy the records in the Tower and other de¬ 
positories, as remnants of feudality and barbarism. Hale dis¬ 
played the folly, injustice, and mischief of this proposition, 
with such authority and clearness of argument that he carried 
the opinions of all reasonable members with him; and in the 
end, those who had introduced the measure were well satisfied 
to withdraw it. That his political opinions at this time were 
not republican, is evident from a motion introduced by him. 
that the legislative authority should be affirmed to be in the 
parliament, and an individual with powers limited by the par¬ 
liament ; but that the military power should for the present 
remain with the Protector. He had no seat in the second par¬ 
liament of the Protectorate, called in 1656; but when a new 
parliament was summoned, upon the death of Cromwell, in 
January, 1658-9, he represented the University of Oxford. 

His judicial conduct, during the Commonwealth, is repre¬ 
sented by contemporaries of all parties as scrupulously just 
and nobly independent. Several instances are related of his 


288 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


resolute refusal to submit the free administration of the law to 
the arbitrary dictation of the Protector. On one occasion of 
this kind, which occurred on the circuit, a jury had been packed 
by express directions from Cromwell. Hale discharged the jury, 
on discovering this circumstance, and refused to try the cause. 
When he returned to London, the Protector severely repri¬ 
manded him, telling him that “he was not fit to be a judge ;” 
to which Hale only replied that “it was very true.” 

It appears that at this period, he, in common with several 
other judges, had strong objections to being employed by Crom¬ 
well as commissioners on the trial of persons taken in open re¬ 
sistance to his authority. After the suppression of the feeble 
and ineffectual rebellion in 1655, in which the unfortunate 
Colonel Penruddock, with many other gentlemen of rank and 
distinction, appeared in arms for the king, in the western coun¬ 
ties, a special commission issued for the trial of the offenders at 
Exeter, in which Hale’s name was inserted. He happened to 
be spending the Lent vacation at his house at Alderley, to 
which place an express was sent to require his attendance; but 
he plainly refused to go, excusing himself on the ground that 
four terms and two circuits in the year were a sufficient devo¬ 
tion of his time to his judicial duties, and that the intervals 
were already too small for the arrangement of his private affairs ; 
“but,” says Burnet, “if he had been urged to it, he would not 
have been afraid of speaking more clearly.” 

He continued to occupy his place as a judge of the Common 
Pleas until the death of the Protector; but when a new com¬ 
mission from Richard Cromwell was offered to him, he declined 
to receive it; and, though strongly urged by other judges, as 
well as his personal friends, to accept the office on patriotic 
grounds, he firmly adhered to his first resolution, saying that 
“he could act no longer under such authority.” 

In the year 1660, Hale was again returned by his native 
county of Gloucester, to serve in the Parliament, or Convention, 
by which Charles II. was recalled. On the discussion of the 
means by which this event should be brought about, Hale pro¬ 
posed that a committee should be appointed to look into the 
propositions and concessions offered by Charles I. during the 
war, particularly at the treaty of Newport, from whence they 
might form reasonable conditions to be sent over to the king. 


SIR MATTHEW HALE. 


289 


The motion was successfully opposed by Monk, who urged the 
danger which might arise, in the present state of the army and 
the nation, if any delay should occur in the immediate settle¬ 
ment of the government. “This,” says Burnet, “was echoed 
with such a shout over the House, that the motion was no longer 
insisted on.” It can hardly be doubted that most of the des¬ 
tructive errors of the reign of Charles II. would have been 
spared, if express restrictions had been imposed upon him be¬ 
fore he was permitted to assume the reins of government. On 
the other hand, it has been justly said, that the time was criti¬ 
cal ; that at that precise moment, the army and the nation, 
equally weary of the scenes of confusion and misrule which had 
succeeded to Richard Cromwell’s abdication, agreed upon the 
proposed scheme; but that if delay had been interposed, and 
if debates had arisen in parliament, the dormant spirit of party 
would in all probability have been awakened, the opportunity 
would have been lost, and the Restoration might after all have 
been prevented. These arguments, when urged by Monk to 
those who were suffering under a pressing evil, and had only a 
prospective and contingent danger before them, were plausible 
and convincing; but to those in after times who have marked 
the actual consequences of recalling the king without expressly 
limiting and defining his- authority, as displayed in the misera¬ 
ble and disgraceful events of his “ wicked, turbulent, and san¬ 
guinary reign,” and in the necessary occurrence of another re¬ 
volution within thirty years from the Restoration, it will pro¬ 
bably appear that the parliament paid rather too dearly on that 
occasion for the advantages of an immediate settlement of the 
nation. 

Immediately after the restoration of the king, in May, 1660,, 
Lord Clarendon, being appointed Lord Chancellor, sought to 
give strength and stability to the new government by carefully 
providing for the due administration of justice. With this 
view he placed men, distinguished for their learning and high 
judicial character,. upon the benches of the different courts. 
Among other eminent lawyers, who had forsaken their profes¬ 
sion during the latter period of the Commonwealth, he deter¬ 
mined to recall Hale from his retirement, and offered him the 
appointment of Lord Chief Baron. But it was not without 
great difficulty that Hale was induced to return to the labours- 
37 2 B 


290 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


of public life. A curious original paper, containing bis 44 rea¬ 
sons why he desired to be spared from any place of public em¬ 
ployment,” was published some years ago by Mr. Hargrave in 
the preface to- his collection of law tracts. Among these rea¬ 
sons, which were stated with the characteristic simplicity of this 
great man, he urged 44 the smallness of his estate, being not 
above £500 per annum, six children unprovided for, and a debt 
of ,£1000 lying upon him; that he was not so well able to en¬ 
dure travel and pains as formerly; that his constitution of body 
required some ease and relaxation; and that he had of late 
time declined the study of the law, and principally applied 
himself to other studies, now more easy, grateful, and seasona¬ 
ble for him.” He alludes also to two “ infirmities, which make 
him unfit for that employment, first, an aversion to the pomp 
and grandeur necessarily incident to it; and secondly, too 
much pity, clemency, and tenderness in cases of life, which 
might prove an unserviceable temper.” 44 But if,” he concludes, 
44 after all this, there must be a necessity of undertaking an 
employment, I desire that it may be in such a court and way 
as may be most suitable to my course of studies and education, 
and that it may be the lowest place that may be, to avoid envy. 
One of his majesty’s counsel in ordinary, or, at most, the place of 
a puisne judge in the Common Pleas, would suit me best.” His 
scruples were, however, eventually overcome, and, on the 7th of 
November, 1660, he accepted the appointment of Lord Chief 
Baron; Lord Clarendon saying, as he delivered his commission 
to him, that, 44 if the king could have found an honester and fitter 
man for that employment, he would not have advanced him to 
it, and that he had therefore preferred him, because he knew 
no other who deserved it so well.” Shortly afterwards, he 
reluctantly received the honour of knighthood. 

The trials of the regicides took place in the October imme¬ 
diately preceding his appointment, and his name appears among 
the commissioners on that occasion. There is, however, no 
reason to suppose that he was actually present. His name is 
not mentioned in any of the reports, either as interfering in the 
proceedings themselves, or assisting at the previous consulta¬ 
tions of the judges; and it can hardly be doubted but that, if 
he had taken a part in the trials, he would have been included, 
with Sir Orlando Bridgeman and several others, in the bitter 


SIR MATTHEW HALE. 


291 


remarks made by Ludlow on their conduct in this respect. It 
has been the invariable practice, from very early times to the 
present day, to include the twelve judges in all commissions 
of Oyer and Terminer for London and Middlesex; and as, at 
the time of the trials in question, only eight judges had been 
appointed, it is probable that Hale and the other three judges 
elect were named in the commission, though their patents were 
not made out till the following term, in order to preserve as 
nearly as possible the ancient form. 

Sir Matthew Hale held the office of Lord Chief Baron till 
the year 1671, and, during that period, greatly raised the cha¬ 
racter of the court in which he presided by his unwearied pa¬ 
tience and industry, the mildness of his manners, and the in¬ 
flexible integrity of his judicial conduct. His impartiality in 
deciding cases in the Exchequer, where the interests of the 
crown were concerned, is admitted even by Roger North, who 
elsewhere charges him with holding “demagogical principles,” 
and with the “foible of leaning towards the popular.” “I 
have heard Lord Guilford say,” says this agreeable but partial 
writer, «that while Hale was Chief Baron of the Exchequer, 
by means of his great learning, even against his inclination, 
he did the crown more justice in that court than any others in 
his place had done with all their good-will and less knowledge.” 

While he was Chief Baron, he was called upon to preside at 
the trial of two unhappy women who were indicted at the as¬ 
sizes at Bury St. Edmunds, in the year 1665, for the crime of 
witchcraft. The Chief Baron is reported to have told the jury 
that “ he made no doubt at all that there were such creatures 
as witches,” and the women were found guilty and afterwards 
executed. The conduct of Hale on this occasion has been the 
subject of much sarcastic animadversion. It might be said in 
reply, that the report of the case in the State Trials is of no 
authority whatever ; but, supposing it to be accurate, it would 
be unjust and unreasonable to impute to Sir Matthew Hale, as 
personal superstition or prejudice, a mere participation in the 
prevailing and almost universal belief of the times in which he 
lived. The majority of his contemporaries, even among per¬ 
sons of education and refinement, were firm believers in witch¬ 
craft, and, though Lord Guilford rejected this belief, Roger 
North admits that he dared not to avow his infidelity in this 


292 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


respect in public, as it would have exposed him to the imputa¬ 
tion of irreligion. Numerous instances might be given to show 
the general prevalence at that time of this stupid and ignorant 
superstition, and therefore the opinion of Hale on this subject 
does not appear to be a proof of peculiar weakness or credulity. 

On the occurrence of the great fire of London, in 1666, an 
act of parliament passed containing directions and arrange¬ 
ments for rebuilding the city. By a clause in this statute, the 
judges were authorized to sit singly to decide on the amount of 
compensation due to persons whose premises were taken by the 
corporation in furtherance of the intended improvements. Sir 
Matthew Hale applied himself with his usual diligence and pa¬ 
tience to the discharge of this laborious and extra-judicial duty. 
“He was,” says Baxter, “the great instrument for rebuilding 
London; for it was he that was the constant judge, who for 
nothing followed the work, and,*by his prudence and justice, 
removed a multitude of great impediments.” 

In the year 1671, upon the death of Sir John Kelyng, Chief 
Justice of the Court of King’s Bench, Sir Matthew Hale was 
removed from the Exchequer to succeed him. The particular 
circumstances which caused his elevation to this laborious and 
responsible situation, at a time when his growing infirmities in¬ 
duced him to seek a total retirement from public life, are not 
recorded by any of his biographers. For four years after he 
became Chief Justice, he regularly attended to the duties of 
his court, and his name appears in all the reported cases in the 
Court of King’s Bench until the close of the year 1675. 
About that time he was attacked by an inflammation of the 
diaphragm, a painful and languishing disease, from which he 
constantly predicted that he should not recover. It produced 
so entire a prostration of strength, that he was unable to walk 
up Westminster Hall to his court without being supported by 
his servants. “ He resolved,” says Baxter, “ that the place 
should not be a burden to him, nor he to it,” and therefore 
made an earnest application to the Lord Keeper Finch for his 
dismission. This being delayed for some time, and finding 
himself totally unequal to the toil of business, he at length, in 
February, 1676, tendered the surrender of his patent person¬ 
ally to the king, who received it graciously and kindly, and 
promised to continue his pension during his life. 


SIR MATTHEW HALE. 


293 


On his retirement from office, he occupied at first a house at 
Acton, which he had taken from Richard Baxter, who says “ it 
was one of the meanest houses he had ever lived in. In that 
house,” he adds, “ he lived contentedly, without any pomp, and 
without costly or troublesome retinue of visiters, but not with¬ 
out charity to the poor. He continueth the study of mathe¬ 
matics and physics still as his great delight. It is not the least 
of my pleasure that I have lived some years in his more than 
ordinary love and friendship, and that we are now waiting 
which shall be first in heaven; whither, he saith, he is going 
with full content and acquiescence in the will of a gracious God, 
and doubts not but we shall shortly live together.” Not long 
before his death, he removed from Acton to his own house at 
Alderly, intending to die there; and, having a few days before 
gone to the parish churchyard and chosen his grave, he sunk 
under a united attack of asthma and dropsy on Ghristmas-day, 
1676 . 

The judicial character of Sir Matthew Hale was without re¬ 
proach. His profound knowledge of the law rendered him an 
object of universal respect to the profession ; whilst his pa¬ 
tience, conciliatory manners, and rigid impartiality engaged 
the good opinion of all classes of men. As a proof of this, it 
is said that, as he successively removed from the Court of Com¬ 
mon Pleas to the Exchequer, and from thence to the King’s 
Bench, the mass of business always followed him; so that the 
court in which he presided was constantly the favourite one 
with counsel, attorneys, and parties. Perhaps, indeed, no judge 
has ever been so generally and unobjectionably popular. His 
address was copious and impressive, but at times slow and em¬ 
barrassed. Baxter says “ he was a man of no quick utterance, 
and often hesitant, but spake with great reason.” This account 
of his mode of speaking is confirmed by Roger North, who 
adds, however, that “ his stop for a word, by the produce al¬ 
ways paid for the delay, and on some occasions he would utter 
sentences heroic.” His reputation as a legal and constitutional 
writer is in no degree inferior to his character as a judge. 
From the time it was published to the present day, his history 
of the Pleas of the Crown has always been considered as a book 
of the highest authority, and is referred to in courts of justice 
with as great confidence and respect as the formal records of 

2 b 2 


294 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

judicial opinions. His Treatises on the Jurisdiction of the 
Lord’s House of Parliament and on Maritime Law, which were 
first published by Mr. Hargrave more than a century after Sir 
Matthew Hale’s death, are works of first-rate excellence as 
legal arguments, and are invaluable as repositories of the learn¬ 
ing of centuries, which the industry and research of the author 
had collected. 

After his retirement from public life, he wrote his great 
work called “ The primitive Origination of Mankind, considered 
and examined according to the light of Nature.” Various opi¬ 
nions have been formed upon the merits of this treatise. Roger 
North depreciates the substance of the book, but commends its 
style; while Bishop Burnet and Dr. Birch greatly praise its 
learning and force of reasoning. 

Sir Matthew Hale was twice married. By his first wife, who 
was a daughter of Sir Henry Moore, of Faley in Berkshire, he 
had ten children, most of whom turned out ill. His second 
wife, according to Roger North, was “ his own servant-maid 
and Baxter says, “some made it a scandal, but his wisdom 
chose it for his convenience, that in his age he married a wo¬ 
man of no estate to be to him as a nurse.” Hale gives her a 
high character in his will, as “ a most dutiful, faithful, and lov¬ 
ing wife,” making her one of his executors, and intrusting her 
with the education of his grand-children. He bequeathed his 
collection of manuscripts, which he says had cost him much 
industry and expense, to the Society of Lincoln’s Inn, in whose 
library they are carefully preserved. 


ISAAC BARROW. 


295 


ISAAC BARROW. 



,EW of the divines and philosophers of the seven¬ 
teenth century were more eminent than Isaac 
Barrow. Of the many good and^great men 
whom it is the glory of Trinity College, Cam¬ 
bridge, to number as her foster-sons, there is 
none more good, none, perhaps, after Bacon 
and Newton, more distinguished than he ; and 
he has an especial claim to the gratitude of all 
members'of that splendid foundation as the pro¬ 
jector of its unequalled library, as well as a liberal 
benefactor in other respects. 

The father of Barrow, a respectable citizen of 
London, was linen-draper to Charles I., and the son 
was naturally brought up in royalist principles. The 
date of his birth is variously assigned by his biogra¬ 
phers, but the more probable account fixes it to October, 
1630. It is recorded that his childhood was turbulent and 
quarrelsome; that he was careless of his clothes, disinclined 
to study, and especially addicted to fighting and promoting 
quarrels among his school-fellows; and of a temper altogether 
so unpromising, that his father often expressed a wish, that if 
any of his children should die, it might be his son Isaac. He 
was*first sent to school at the Charter House, and removed 
thence to Felstead in Essex. Here his disposition seemed to 
change: he made great progress in learning, and was entered 
at Trinity College in 1645, in his fifteenth year, it being then 
usual to send boys to college about that age. He passed his 
term as an under-graduate with much credit. The time and 
place were not favourable to the promotion of Royalists; for 
a royalist master had been ejected to make room for one placed 
there by the parliament, and the Fellows were chiefly of the same 
political persuasion. But Barrow’s good conduct and attain- 



296 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


merits won the favour of his superiors, and in 1649, + be year 
after he took his degree, he was elected Fellow. It deserves to 
he known, for it is honourable to both parties, that he never 
disguised or compromised his own principles. 

His earlier studies were especially turned towards natural 
philosophy; and, rejecting the antiquated doctrines then taught 
in the schools, he selected Bacon, Galileo, and Descartes as his 
favourite authors. He did not commence the study of mathe¬ 
matics until after he had gained his fellowship, and was led to 
it in a very circuitous way. He was induced to read the Greek 
astronomers, with a view to solving the difficulties of ancient 
chronology ; and to understand their works, a thorough know¬ 
ledge of geometry was indispensable. He therefore undertook 
the study of that science; which suited the bent of his genius 
so well, that he became one of the greatest proficients in it of 
his age. His first intention was to become a physician, and. he 
made considerable progress in anatomy,* chemistry, botany, and 
other sciences subservient to the profession of medicine ; but he 
changed his mind, and determined to make divinity his chief 
pursuit. In 1655 he went abroad. His travels extended 
through France, Italy, and the Levant, to Constantinople; and, 
after an absence of four years, he returned to England through 
Germany and Holland. During this period he lost no oppor¬ 
tunity of prosecuting his studies; and he sent home several 
descriptive poems, and some letters, written in Latin, which are 
printed in his Opuscula, in the fourth volume of the folio edition 
of his works. In the voyage to Smyrna he gave a proof of the 
high spirit, which, purified from its childish unruliness and 
violence, continued to form part of his character through life. 
The vessel being attacked by an Algerine corsair, Barrow 
remained on deck, cheerfully and vigorously fighting, until the 
assailant sheered off. Being asked afterwards why he did not 
go into the hold and leave the defence of the ship to those whom 
it concerned, he replied, “It concerned no one more than my¬ 
self. I would rather have died than fallen into the hands of 
those merciless pirates.” He has described this voyage, and 
its eventful circumstances, in a poem contained in his Opuscula. 

He entered into orders in 1659, and in the following year 
was made Greek Professor at Cambridge. The numerous offices 
to which he was appointed about this time show that his merits 


ISAAC BARROW. 


297 


were generally and highly esteemed. He was chosen to be Pro¬ 
fessor of Geometry at Gresham College in 1662; and was one 
of the first Fellows elected into the Royal Society, after the 
incorporation of that body by charter in 1663; in which year 
he was also appointed the first mathematical lecturer on the 
foundation of Mr. Lucas, at Cambridge. Not that he made 
sinecures of these responsible employments, or thought himself 
qualified to discharge the duties of all at once; for he resigned 
the Greek professorship, on being appointed Lucasian professor, 
for reasons explained in his introductory oration, which is extant 
in the Opuscula. The Gresham professorship he also gave up 
in 1664, intending thenceforth to reside at Cambridge. Finally, 
in 1669, he resigned the Lucasian chair to his great successor, 
Newton, intending to devote himself entirely to the study of 
divinity. Barrow received the degree of D. D. by royal man¬ 
date, in 1670; and, in 1672, was raised to the mastership of 
Trinity College by the king, with the compliment, “ that he 
had given it to the best scholar in England.” In that high 
station he distinguished himself by liberality: he remitted seve¬ 
ral allowances which his predecessors had required from the col¬ 
lege ; he set on foot the scheme for a new library, and contri¬ 
buted in purse, and still more by his personal exertions, to its 
completion. It should be remarked that his patent of appoint¬ 
ment being drawn up, as usual, with a permission to marry, he 
caused that part to be struck out, conceiving it to be at variance 
with the statutes. He was cut off by a fever in the prime of 
life, May 4, 1679, aged forty-nine, during a visit to London. 
His remains were honourably deposited in Westminster Abbey, 
among the worthies of the land; and in that noble building a 
monument was erected to him by the contributions of his 
friends. 


38 


298 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JOHN KAY. 



AY, whom Haller describes as the greatest 
botanist in the memory of man, and whose 
writings on animals are pronounced by Cuvier 
to be the foundation of all modern zoology, 
was horn on the 29th of November, 1628, at 
. Black Notley, near Braintree, in Essex. His 
father was a blacksmith, who availed himself 
of the advantages of a free grammar school at 
Black Notley to bestow upon his son a liberal 
education. John was designed for holy orders ; 
and was accordingly entered at Catherine Hall, 
Cambridge, in his sixteenth year. He subsequent¬ 
ly removed to Trinity, of which college he was 
elected a fellow in the same year with the celebrated 
Isaac Barrow. In 1651, he was appointed Greek Lec¬ 
turer of his college ; and afterwards Mathematical Lec¬ 
turer and Humanity Reader. 

In the midst of his professional occupations Ray appears to 
have devoted himself to that course of observation of the works 
of nature, which was afterwards to constitute the business and 
pleasure of his life, and upon which his enduring reputation was 
to be built. In 1660, he published his 4 Catalogus Plantarum 
circa Cantabrigiam nascentiam,’ which work he states to be the 
result of ten years of research. He must, therefore, have be¬ 
come a naturalist, in the best sense of the word—he must 
have observed as well as read—at the period when he was 
struggling for university honours, and obtaining them in com¬ 
pany with some of the most eminent persons of his own day. 
Before the publication of his catalogue, he had visited many 
parts of England and Wales, for the purpose chiefly of col¬ 
lecting their native plants; and his Itineraries, which were 
first published in 1760, under the title of ‘Select Remains of 



JOHN RAY. 


299 


the learned John Ray,’ show that he was a careful and diligent 
observer of every matter that could enlarge his understanding 
and correct his taste. His principal companion in his favourite 
studies was his friend and pupil, Francis Willughby. 

In December, 1660, Ray was ordained deacon and priest at 
the same time. But the chances of preferment in the church 
of England, which his admirable talents and learning, as well 
as the purity of his life and the genuine warmth of his piety, 
would probably have won for him, were at once destroyed by 
his honest and inflexible resolution not to subscribe to the con¬ 
ditions required by the Act of Uniformity of 1662, by which 
divines were called upon to swear that the oath entitled the 
Solemn League and Covenant was not binding upon those who 
had taken it. Ray was in consequence deprived of his fellow¬ 
ship. The affection of his pupil, Willughby,* relieved him from 
the embarrassment which might have been a consequence of this 
misfortune. The two friends from this time appear to have 
dedicated themselves almost wholly to the study of natural his¬ 
tory. They travelled upon the Continent for three years, from 
1663 to 1666 ; and during the remainder of Willughby’s life, 
which unfortunately was terminated in 1672, their time was 
principally occupied in observations which had for their object to 
examine and to register the various productions of nature, upon 
some method which should obviate the difficulty of those arbi¬ 
trary and fanciful classifications which had prevailed up to their 
day. In the preface to his first botanical attempt, the Catalogue 
of Cambridge Plants, Ray describes the obstacles which he found 
in the execution of such a work;—he had no guide to consult, and 
he had to form a method of arrangement solely by his own 
sagacity and patience. At that period, as he says in his “Wis¬ 
dom of God in the Creation,” “different colour, or multiplicity 
of leaves in the flower, and the like accidents, were sufficient to 
constitute a specific difference.” From a conversation with 
Ray, a short time before his death, Derham has described the 
object which the two friends had in their agreeable but laborious 
pursuits. “ These two gentlemen, finding the history of nature 
very imperfect, had agreed between themselves, before their 
travels beyond sea, to reduce the several tribes of things to a 
method; and to give accurate descriptions of the several species, 
from a strict view of them.” That Ray entered upon his task, 


300 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


however perplexing it might be, with the enthusiastic energy of 
a man really in love with his subject, we cannot doubt. “Wil- 
lughby,” says Derham, “prosecuted his design with as great 
application as if he had been to get his bread thereby.” The 
good sense of Ray saw distinctly the right path in such an 
undertaking. There is a passage in his “Wisdom of God,” which 
beautifully exhibits his own conception of the proper character 
of a naturalist: « Let it not suffice us to be book-learned, to 
read what others have written, and to take upon trust more 
falsehood than truth. But let us ourselves examine things as 
we have opportunity, and converse with nature as well as books. 
Let us endeavour to promote and increase this knowledge, and 
make new discoveries ; not so much distrusting our own parts 
or despairing of our own abilities, as to think that our industry 
can add nothing to the invention of our ancestors, or correct 
any of their mistakes. Let us not think that the bounds of 
science are fixed like Hercules’s Pillars, and inscribed with a 
ne plus ultra. Let us not think we have done when we have 
learnt what they have delivered to us. The treasures of nature 
are inexhaustible. Here is employment enpugh for the vastest 
parts, the most indefatigable industries, the happiest opportu¬ 
nities, the most prolix and undisturbed vacancies.” It is not 
difficult to imagine the two friends encouraging each other in 
their laborious career by sentiments such as these ; which are 
as worthy to be held in remembrance now that we are reaping 
the full advantage of their labours, and those of their many 
illustrious successors, as in the days when natural history was, 
for the most part, a tissue of extravagant fables and puerile 
conceits. 

In 1667 Ray was admitted a Fellow of the Royal Society; 
and he executed, about that time, a translation into Latin of 
his friend Bishop Wilkins’s work, on a philosophical and univer¬ 
sal language. In 1670 he published the first edition of his 
“Catalogue of English Plants;” and in 1672 appeared his « Collec¬ 
tion of English Proverbswhich he probably took up as a relax¬ 
ation from his more systematic pursuits. In this year he suf¬ 
fered the irreparable loss of his friend Willughby. The history 
of letters presents us with few more striking examples of the 
advantages to the world as well as to the individuals themselves, 
of such a cordial union for a great object. The affection of 


JOHN RAY. 


301 


Ray for Willughby was of the noblest kind. He became the 
guardian and tutor of his children; and he prepared his post¬ 
humous workgf for publication, with additions from his own pen, 
for which he claimed no credit, with a diligence and accuracy 
which showed that he considered the reputation of his friend as 
the most sacred of all trusts. In 1673, being in his forty-fifth 
year, Ray married. Willughby had left him an annuity of <£60. 
He had three daughters. During the remainder of his long life, 
which reached to his 77th year, he resided in or near his native 
village, living contentedly, as a layman, upon very humble 
means, but indefatigably contributing to the advancement of 
natural history, and directing the study of it to the highest 
end,—the proof of the wisdom and goodness of the great Author 
of nature. 

The most celebrated of Ray’s botanical publications is his 
“Synopsis Methodica Stirpium Britannicarum.” Sir James 
Smith, in a memoir of Ray, in Rees’s Encyclopedia, declares 
that of all the systematical and practical Floras of any country, 
the second edition of Ray’s Synopsis is the most perfect. The 
same writer, in the transactions of the Linnean Society, vol. iv., 
says of this Synopsis, “he examined every plant recorded in his 
work, and even gathered most of them himself. He investigated 
their synonyms with consummate accuracy; and if the clearness 
and precision of other authors had equalled his, he would 
scarcely have committed an error.” Ray’s “Methodus Planta- 
rum Nova,” first published in 1682, has been superseded by other 
systems; but the accuracy of his observations, the precision of 
his language, and the clearness of his general views, tended 
greatly to the advancement of botanical science. His “ Historia 
Plantarum,” in three vols. folio, a vast compilation, including 
all the botanical knowledge of his day, is still in use, as a book 
of reference, by those who especially devote themselves to this 
study. 

The zoological works of Ray have had a more direct and per¬ 
manent influence upon the advancement of natural history than 
his botanical. Among his zoologioal productions, the best 
authorities are agreed that we ought to include the greater part 
of those edited by him as the posthumous works of his friend 
Willughby. They are conceived upon the same principle as 
his own History of Plants, and are arranged upon a nearly 

2 C 


302 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


similar plan; while the style of each is undoubtedly the same. 
In the original division of their great subject, Ray had chosen 
the vegetable kingdom, and Willughby the animfU; and Ray, 
therefore, may have felt himself compelled to forego some of his 
own proper claims, that he might raise a complete monument 
to the memory of his friend. The Ornithology appeared in 1676; 
the History of Fishes in 1686. Ray, however, prepared seve¬ 
ral very important zoological works, of his entire claims to which 
there can be no doubt. The chief of these are, “ Synopsis Me- 
thodica Animalium Quadrupedum et Serpentini Generis,” 1693, 
which he published during his life; “ Synopsis Methodica Avium,” 
and “ Synopsis Methodica Piscium,” edited by Derham, and pub¬ 
lished in 1713; and “Historia Insectorum,” printed at the ex¬ 
pense of the Royal Society, in 1710. « The peculiar character 

of the zoological works of Ray,” says Cuvier, “ consists in 
clearer and more rigorous methods than those of any of his pre¬ 
decessors, and applied*with more constancy and precision. 
The divisions which he has introduced into the classes of quad¬ 
rupeds and birds have been followed by the English naturalists, 
almost to our own day; and one finds very evident traces of his 
system of birds in Linnaeus, in Brisson, in Buffon, and in all the 
authors who are occupied with this class of animals. The 
Ornithology of Salerne is little more than a translation from 
the Synopsis ; and Buffon has extracted from Willughby almost 
all the anatomical part of his History of Birds. Daubenton 
and Hauy have translated the History of Fishes, in great part, 
for their Dictionary of Ichthyology, in the ‘ Encyclopedic 
M^thodique.’ ” 

“The Wisdom of God in the Creation” is the work upon which 
the popular fame of Ray most deservedly rests. It is a book 
which perhaps more than any other in our language unites the 
precision of science to the warmth of devotion. It is delightful 
to see the ardour with which this good man dedicated himself 
to the observation of nature, entering into his views of another 
state of existence, when our knowledge shall be made perfect, 
and the dim light with which we grope amid the beautiful and 
wondrous objects by which we are surrounded, shall brighten 
into complete day. “It is not likely,” says he, “ that eternal 
life shall be a torpid and inactive state, or that it shall consist 
only in an uninterrupted and endless act of love; the other 


JOHN RAY. 


803 


faculties shall be employed as well as the will, in actions suitable 
to, and perfective of their natures; especially the understanding, 
•the supreme faculty of the soul, which chiefly differs in us from 
brute beasts, and makes us capable of virtue and vice, of rewards 
and punishments, shall be busied and employed in contemplating 
the works of God, and observing the divine art and wisdom 
manifested in the structure and composition of them ; and re¬ 
flecting upon their Great Architect the praise and glory due 
to him. Then shall we clearly see, to our great satisfaction 
and admiration, the ends and uses of those things which here 
were either too subtle for us to penetrate and discover, or too 
remote and unaccessible for us to come to any distinct view of, 
viz. the planets and fixed stars ; those illustrious bodies, whose 
contents and inhabitants, whose stores and furniture we have 
here so longing a desire to know, as also their mutual subservi¬ 
ency to each other. Now the mind of man being not capable 
at once to advert to more than one thing, a particular view and 
examination of such an innumerable number of vast bodies, and 
the great multitude of species both of animate and inanimate 
beings, which each of them contains, will afford matter enough 
to exercise and employ our minds, I do not say to all eternity, 
but to many ages, should we do nothing else.”* 

In addition to his “ Wisdom of God,” Ray published three 
« Physico-Theological Discourses, concerning the Chaos, Deluge, 
and Dissolution of the World.” “ This last presents to us,” to 
use the words of Cuvier, “ a system of geology as plausible as 
any of those which had appeared at this epoch, or for a long 
time afterwards.” He also printed a work expressly of a theo¬ 
logical character, “ A Persuasive to a Holy Life.” 

Ray died on the 17th of January, 1705, at his native place 
of Black Notley, whither he had retired, at Midsummer, 1679, 
as he himself expressed, “ for the short pittance of time he had 
yet to live in this world.” His memory has been done justice 
to by his countrymen. A most interesting commemoration of 
him was held in London, on the 29th of November, 1828, being 
the two hundredth anniversary of his birth. • 


* “ Wisdom of God in the Creation,” p. 199, fifth edition. 



304 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ARCHBISHOP FENELON. 



RANCOIS DE SALIGNAC DE LAMOTHE- 
FENELON was born August 6, 1651, at the 
castle of Fenelon, of a noble and ancient 
family in the province of Perigord. 

Early proofs of talent and genius induced 
his uncle, the Marquis de Fenelon, a man of 
no ordinary merit, to take him under his imme¬ 
diate care and superintendence. By him he was 
placed at the seminary of St. Sulpice, then lately 
founded in Paris for the purpose of educating young 
men for the church. 

The studies of the young abb6 were not encouraged 
by visions of a stall and mitre. It seems that the 
object of his earliest ambition was, as a missionary, to 
carry the blessings of the gospel to the savages of North 
America, or to the Mohammedans and heretics of Greece 
and Anatolia. The fears, however, or the hopes of his friends 
detained him at home, and after his ordination he confined him¬ 
self for several years to the duties of the ministry in the parish 
of St. Sulpice. 

At the age of twenty-seven he was appointed superior of a 
society which had for its object the instruction and encourage¬ 
ment of female converts to the church of Rome; and from this 
time he took up his abode with his uncle. In this house he first 
became known to Bossuet, by whose recommendation he was 
intrusted with the conduct of a mission charged with the duty 
of reclaiming the Protestants in the province of Poitou, in the 
memorable year 1685, when the Huguenots were writhing under 
the infliction of the dragonade, employed by the government to 
give full effect to the revocation of the edict of Nantes. Fene¬ 
lon had no mind to have dragoons for his coadjutors, and re- 



ARCHBISHOP FENELON. 


305 


quested that all show of martial terror might be removed from 
the places which he visited. His future proceedings were in 
strict conformity with this gentle commencement, and conse¬ 
quently exposed him to the harassing remonstrances of his 
superiors. 

His services in Poitou were not acknowledged by any reward 
from the government, for Louis XIV. had begun to look coldly 
upon him; but it was not his fortune to remain long in obscurity. 
Among the visitors at his uncle’s house, whose friendship he had 
the happiness to gain, was the Duke de Beauvilliers, a man who 
could live at the court of Louis without ceasing to live as a 
Christian. This nobleman was appointed, in the year 1689, 
governor of the Duke of Burgundy, the grandson of Louis, and 
heir, after his father the dauphin, to the throne of France. 
His first act was to appoint Fenelon preceptor to his royal 
charge, then in his eighth year, and already distinguished for 
the frightful violence of his passions, his insolent demeanour,. 
and tyrannical spirit. The child had, however, an affectionate 
heart and a quick sense of shame. Fenelon gained his love and 
confidence, and used his power to impress upon him the Chris¬ 
tian’s method of self-government. His headstrong pupil was 
subdued, not by the fear of man, but by the fear of God. In 
the task of instruction less difficulty awaited him; for the young 
prince was remarkably intelligent and industrious. The pro¬ 
gress of a royal student is likely to be rated at his full amount 
by common fame; but there is reason to believe that in this 
case it was rapid and substantial. 

In 1694 he was presented to the Abbey of St. Valery, and 
two years afterwards promoted to the Archbishopric of Cambray, 
with a command that he should retain his office of preceptor, 
giving personal attendance only during the three months of 
absence from his diocese which the canons allowed. In resign¬ 
ing his abbey, which from conscientious motives he refused to 
keep with his archbishopric, he was careful to assign such 
reasons as might not convey an indirect censure of the numerous 
pluralists among his clerical brethren. Probably this excess of 
delicacy, which it is easy to admire and difficult to justify, was 
hardly requisite in the case of many of the offenders. One of 
them, the Archbishop of Kheims, when informed of the con¬ 
scientious conduct of Fenelon, made the following reply: “M. 

39 2 c 2 


306 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


de Cambray with his sentiments does right in resigning his 
benefice, and I with my sentiments do very right in keeping 
mine.” This mode of defence is capable of very general appli¬ 
cation, and is in fact very generally used, being good for other 
cases besides that of pluralities. 

This preferment was the last mark of royal favour which he 
received. Louis was never cordially his friend, and there were 
many at court eager to convert him into an enemy. An oppor¬ 
tunity was afforded by Fenelon’s connection with Madame Guyon. 

It is well known that this lady was the great apostle of the 
Quietists, a sect of religionists, so called, because they studied 
to attain a state of perfect contemplation, in which the soul is 
the passive recipient of divine light. She was especially noted 
for her doctrine of pure love; she taught that Christian per¬ 
fection consisted in a disinterested love of God, excluding the 
hope of happiness and fear of misery, and that this perfection 
was attainable by man. Fenelori first became acquainted with 
her at the house of his friend the Duke de Beauvilliers, and, 
convinced of the sincerity of her religion, was disposed to regard 
her more favourably from a notion that her religious opinions, 
against which a loud clamour had been raised, coincided very 
nearly with his own. It has been the fashion to represent him 
as her convert and disciple. The truth is, that he was deeply 
versed in the writings of the later mystics; men who, with all 
their extravagance, were perhaps the best representatives of 
the Christian character to be found among the Roman Catholics 
of their time. He considered the doctrine of Madame Guyon 
to be substantially the same with that of his favourite authors; 
and whatever appeared exceptionable in her expositions, he 
attributed to loose and exaggerated expression natural to her 
sex and character. 

The approbation of Fenelon gave currency to the fair Quietist 
among orthodox members of the church. At last the bishops 
began to take alarm; the clamour was renewed, and the ex¬ 
amination of her doctrines solemnly intrusted to Bossuet and 
two other learned divines. Fenelon was avowedly her friend; 
yet no one hitherto had breathed a suspicion of any flaw in his 
orthodoxy. It was even during the examination, and towards 
the close of it, that he was promoted to the Archbishopric of 
Cambray. The blow came at length from the hand of his most 


ARCHBISHOP FENELON. 


307 


valued friend. He had been altogether passive in the pro¬ 
ceedings respecting Madame Guyon. Bossuet, who had been 
provoked into vehement wrath, and had resolved to crush her, 
was sufficiently irritated by this temperate neutrality. But 
when Fenelon found himself obliged to publish his “Maxims of 
the Saints,” in which, without attacking others, lie defends his 
own views of some of the controverted points, Bossuet, in a 
tumult of zeal, threw himself at the feet of Louis, denounced 
his friend as a dangerous fanatic, and besought the king to in¬ 
terpose the royal arm between the church and pollution. Fe¬ 
nelon offered to submit his book to the judgment of the pope. 
Permission was granted in very ungracious terms, and presently 
followed by a sentence of banishment to his diocese. This 
sudden reverse of fortune, which he received without even whis¬ 
pering a complaint, served to show the forbearance and meek¬ 
ness of his spirit, but it deprived him of none of his powers. 
An animated controversy arose between him and Bossuet, and 
all Europe beheld with admiration the boldness and success with 
which he maintained his ground against the renowned and vete¬ 
ran disputant; and that, too, in the face of fearful discourage¬ 
ment. The whole power of the court was arrayed against him, 
and he stood alone, for his powerful friends had left his side. 
The Cardinal de Noailles and others, who had in private ex¬ 
pressed unqualified approbation of his book, meanly withheld a 
public acknowledgment of their opinions. While his enemy 
enjoyed every facility, and had Louis and his courtiers and 
courtly bishops to cheer him on, it was with difficulty that Fe¬ 
nelon could find a printer who would venture to put to the press 
a work which bore his name. Under these disadvantages, 
harassed in mind, and with infirm health, he replied to the 
deliberate and artful attacks of his adversary with a rapidity 
which, under any circumstances, would have been astonishing. 
He was now gaining ground daily in public opinion. The pope 
also, who knew his merit, was very unwilling to condemn. His 
persecutors were excited to additional efforts. He had already 
been banished from court; now he was deprived of the name of 
preceptor, and of his salary,—of that very salary which some 
time before he had eagerly offered to resign, in consideration 
of the embarrassed state of the royal treasury. The flagging 
zeal of the pope was stimulated by threats conveyed in letters 


308 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


from Louis penned by Bossuet. At length the sentence of con¬ 
demnation was obtained; but in too mild a form to satisfy 
altogether the courtly party. No bull was issued. A simple 
brief pronounced certain propositions to be erroneous and dan¬ 
gerous, and condemned the book which contained them, without 
sentencing it in the usual manner to the flames. 

It is needless to say that Fenelon submitted. He published 
without delay the sentence of condemnation, noting the selected 
propositions, and expressing his entire acquiescence in the judg¬ 
ment pronounced; and prohibited the faithful in his diocese 
from reading or having in their possession his own work, which 
up to that moment he had defended so manfully. Protestants, 
who are too apt, in judging the conduct of Homan Catholics, to 
forget every thing but their zeal, have raised an outcry against 
his meanness and dissimulation. Fenelon was a sincere member 
of a church which claimed infallibility. We may regret the 
thraldom in which such a mind was held by an authority from 
which the Protestant happily is free; but the censure which 
falls on him personally for this act is certainly misplaced. 

The faint hopes which his friends might have cherished, that 
when the storm had passed he would be restored to favour, were 
soon extinguished by an event which, while it closed against 
him for ever the doors of the palace, secured him a place in 
history, and without which it is probable that he would never 
have become the subject even of a short memoir. 

A manuscript which he had intrusted to a servant to copy 
was treacherously sold by this man to a printer in Paris, who 
immediately put it to the press, under the title of “ Continuation 
of the Fourth Book of the Odyssey, or Adventures of Telema- 
chus, Son of Ulysses, with the Boyal Privilege,” dated April 
6, 1699. It was told at court that the forthcoming work was 
from the pen of the obnoxious archbishop; and before the im¬ 
pression of the first volume was completed, orders were given to 
suppress it, to punish the printers, and seize the copies already 
printed. A few however escaped the hands of the police, and 
were rapidly circulated. One of them, together with a copy 
of the remaining part of the manuscript, soon after came into 
the possession of a printer at the Hague, who could publish it 
without danger. 

So eager was the curiosity which the violent proceedings of 


ARCHBISHOP FENELON. 


309 


the French court had excited, that the press could hardly he 
made, with the utmost exertion, to keep pace with the demand. 
Such is the history of the first appearance of Telemachus. 

Louis was persuaded to think that the whole book was in¬ 
tended to he a satire on him, his court, and government; and 
the world was persuaded for a time to think the same. So 
while the wrath of the king was roused to the uttermost, all 
Europe was sounding forth the praises of Fenelon. The nume¬ 
rous enemies of Louis exulted at the supposed exhibition of his 
tyranny and profligate life. The philosophers were charmed 
with the liberal and enlightened views of civil government 
which they seemed to discover. It is now well known that the 
anger and the praise were alike undeserved. The hook was 
probably written for the use of the Duke of Burgundy, certainly 
at a time when Fenelon enjoyed the favour of his sovereign, and 
was desirous to retain it. He may have forgotten that it was 
impossible to describe a good and a bad king, a virtuous and a 
profligate court, without saying much that would bear hard upon 
Louis and his friends. As for his political enlightenment, it is 
certain that he had his full share of the monarchical principles 
of his time and nation. He wished to have good kings, but he 
made no provision for bad ones. It is difficult to believe that 
Louis was seriously alarmed at his notions of political economy. 
That science was not in a very advanced state; but no one 
could fear that a prince could be induced by the lessons of his 
tutor to collect all the artificers of luxury in his capital, and 
drive them in a body into the fields to cultivate potatoes and 
cabbages, with a belief that he would thus make the country a 
garden, and the town a seat of the Muses. 

Nothing was now left to Fenelon but to devote himself to his 
episcopal duties, which he seems to have discharged with equal 
zeal and ability. The course of his domestic life, as described 
by an eye-witness, was retired, and, to a remarkable degree, 
uniform. Strangers were courteously and hospitably received; 
but his society was confined for the most part to the ecclesiastics 
who resided in his house. Among them were some of his own 
relations, to whom he was tenderly attached, but for whose pre¬ 
ferment, it should be noticed, he never manifested an unbe¬ 
coming eagerness. His only recreation was a solitary walk in 
the fields, where it was his employment, as he observes to a 


310 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


friend, to converse with his God. If in his rambles he fell in 
with any of the poorer part of his flock, he w T ould sit with them 
on the grass, and discourse about their temporal as well as their 
spiritual concerns; and sometimes he would visit them in their 
humble sheds, and partake of such refreshment as they offered 
him. 

In the beginning of the 18th century we find him engaged at 
once in controversy and politics. The revival of the old dis¬ 
pute with the Jansenists, to whom he was strongly opposed, 
obliged him to take up his pen; but in using it he never forgot 
his own maxim, that “ rigour and severity are not the spirit of 
the gospel.” For a knowledge of his political labours we are 
indebted to his biographer, the Cardinal de Bausset, who first 
published his letters to the Duke de Beauvilliers on the subject 
of the war which followed the grand alliance in the year 1701. 
In them he not only considers the general questions of the 
succession to the Spanish monarchy, the objects of the con¬ 
federated powers, and the measures best calculated to avert or 
soften their hostility, but even enters into details of military 
operations, discusses the merits of the various generals, stations 
the different armies, and sketches a plan of the campaign. 
Towards the close of the war he communicated to the Duke de 
Chevreuse heads of a very extensive reform in all the depart¬ 
ments of government. This reform did not suppose any funda¬ 
mental change of the old despotism. It was intended, doubtless, 
for the consideration of the Duke of Burgundy, to whose suc¬ 
cession all France was looking forward with sanguine hopes, 
founded on the acknowledged excellence of his character, w r hich 
Fenelon himself had so happily contributed to form. But 
among the other trials which visited his latter days, he was 
destined to mourn the death of his pupil. 

Fenelon did not long survive the general pacification. After 
a short illness and intense bodily suffering, w r hich he seems to 
have supported by calling to mind the sufferings of his Saviour, 
he died February 7th, 1715, in the sixty-fourth year of his age. 
No money was found in his coffers. The produce of the sale 
of his furniture, together with the arrears of rent due to him, 
were appropriated, by his direction, to pious and charitable 
purposes. 

The calumnies with which he was assailed during the affair 


ARCHBISHOP FENELON. 


311 


of Quietism were remembered only to the disadvantage of their 
authors. The public seem eventually to have regarded him as 
a man who was persecuted because he refused to be a persecutor; 
who had maintained, at all hazards, what he believed to be the 
cause of truth and justice; and had resigned his opinion only 
at that moment when conscience required the sacrifice. 

Universal homage was paid by his contemporaries to his 
talents and genius. In the grasp and power of his intellect, 
and in the extent and completeness of his knowledge, none 
probably would have ventured to compare him with Bossuet; 
but in fertility and brilliancy of imagination, in a ready and 
dexterous use of his materials, and in that quality which his 
countrymen call esprit , he was supposed to have no superior. 
Bossuet himself said of him “11 brille d’esprit, ilest tout esprit, 
il en a bien plus que moi.” 

It is obvious that his great work, the Adventures of Telema- 
chus, was, in the first instance, indebted for some portion of its 
popularity to circumstances which had no connection with its 
merits; but we cannot attribute to the same cause the continued 
hold which it has maintained on the public favour. Those who 
•are ignorant of the interest which attended its first appearance 
still feel the charm of that beautiful language which is made 
the vehicle of the purest morality and the most ennobling sen¬ 
timents. In the many editions through which it passed, between 
its first publication and the death of the author, Fenelon took 
no concern. Publicly he neither avowed nor disavowed the 
work, though he prepared corrections and additions for future 
editors. All obstacles to its open circulation were removed by 
the death of Louis; and in the year 1717, the Marquis de 
Fenelon, his great nephew, presented to Louis XV. a new and 
correct edition, superintended by himself, from which the text 
of all subsequent editions has been taken. 

The best authority for the life of Fenelon accessible to the 
public is the laborious work of his biographer, the Cardinal de 
Bausset, which is rendered particularly valuable by the great 
number of original documents which appear at the end of each 
volume. Its value would be increased if much of the theological 
discussion were omitted, and the four volumes compressed 
into three. 


312 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


WILLIAM PENN. 



ILLIAM PENN was born in London, Octo¬ 
ber 14, 1644. He was the son of a naval 
officer of the same name, who served with dis¬ 
tinction both in the Protectorate and after 
the Restoration, and who was much esteemed 
by Charles II. and the Duke of York. At 
the age of fifteen, he was entered as a gentle¬ 
man-commoner at Christ Church, Oxford. He 
had not been long in residence, when he received, 
from the preaching of Thomas Loe, his first bias 
. towards the doctrines of the Quakers; and in con¬ 
junction with some fellow-students, he began to 
withdraw from attendance on the established church, 
and to hold private prayer-meetings. For this con¬ 
duct Penn and his friends were fined by the college 
for nonconformity; and the former was soon involved 
in more serious censure by his ill-governed zeal, in consequence 
of an order from the king, that the ancient custom of wearing 
surplices should be revived. This seemed to Penn an infringe¬ 
ment of the simplicity of Christian worship: whereupon he, 
with some friends, tore the surplices from the backs of those stu¬ 
dents who appeared in them. For this act of violence, totally 
inconsistent, it is to be observed, with the principles of tolera¬ 
tion which regulated his conduct in after-life, he and they were 
very justly expelled. 

Admiral Penn, who like most sailors possessed a quick tem¬ 
per and high notions of discipline and obedience, was little 
pleased with this event, and still less satisfied with his son’s grave 
demeanour, and avoidance of the manners and ceremonies of polite 
life. Arguments failing, he had recourse to blows, and as a last 
resource, he turned his son out of doors; but soon relented so 
far as to equip him, in 1662, for a journey to France, in hope 


WILLIAM PENN. 


313 


that the gayety of that country would expel his new-fashioned 
and, as he regarded them, fanatical notions. Paris, however, 
soon became wearisome to William Penn, and he spent a con¬ 
siderable time at Saumur, for the sake of the instruction and 
company of Moses Amyrault, an eminent Protestant divine. 
Here he confirmed and improved his religious impressions, and 
at the same time acquired, from the insensible influence of those 
who surrounded him, an increased polish and courtliness of de¬ 
meanour, which greatly gratified the admiral on his return home 
in 1664. 

Admiral Penn went to sea in 1664, and remained two years 
on service. During this time the external effects of his son’s 
residence in France had worn away, and he had returned to 
those grave habits, and that rule of associating only with re¬ 
ligious people, which had before given his father so much dis¬ 
pleasure. To try the effect of absence and change of associates, 
Admiral Penn sent William to manage his estates in Ireland, a 
duty which the latter performed with satisfaction both to him¬ 
self and his employer. But it chanced that, on a visit to Cork, 
he again attended the preaching of Thomas Loe, by whose ex¬ 
hortations he was deeply impressed. From this time he began 
to frequent the Quakers’ meetings; and in September, 1667, he 
was imprisoned, with others, under the persecuting laws which 
then disgraced our statute book. Upon application to the higher 
authorities, he was soon released. 

Upon receiving tidings that William had connected himself 
with the Quakers, the admiral immediately summoned him to 
England; and he soon became certified of the fact, among other 
peculiarities, by his son’s pertinacious adherence to the Quaker’s 
notions concerning what they call Hat Worship. This led him 
to a violent remonstrance. William Penn behaved with due 
respect; but in the main point, that of forsaking his associates 
and rule of conduct, he yielded nothing. The father confined 
his demands at last to the simple point, that his son should sit 
uncovered in the presence of himself, the king, and the Duke of 
York. Still William Penn felt bound to make not even this 
concession; and, on this refusal, the admiral again turned him 
out of doors. 

Soon after, in 1668, he began to preach, and in the same 
year, he published his first work, “ Truth Exalted,” &c. We 
40 2 D 


314 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


cannot here notice his very numerous works, of which the titles 
run, for the most part, to an extraordinary length: but “ The 
Sandy Foundation Shaken,” published in the same year, claims 
notice, as having led to his first public persecution. In it he 
was induced, not to deny the doctrine of the trinity, which in a 
certain sense he admitted, but to object to the language in which 
it is expounded by the English church; and for this offence he 
was imprisoned for some time in the Tower. During this con¬ 
finement, he composed “No Cross, no Crown,” one of his prin¬ 
cipal and most popular works, of which the leading doctrine, 
admirably exemplified in his own life, was, that the way to future 
happiness and glory lies, in this world, not through a course of 
misery and needless mortification, but still through labour, 
watchfulness, and self-denial, and continual striving against cor¬ 
rupt passions and inordinate indulgences. This is enforced by 
copious examples from profane as well as sacred history; and 
the work gives evidence of an extent of learning very credit¬ 
able to its author, considering his youth, and the circumstances 
under which it was composed. He was detained in prison for 
seven months, and treated with much severity. In 1669 he 
had the satisfaction of being reconciled to his father. 

William Penn was one of the first sufferers by the passing of 
the Conventicle Act, in 1670. He was imprisoned in Newgate, 
and tried for preaching to a seditious and riotous assembly in 
Gracechurch street; and this trial is remarkable and celebrated 
in criminal jurisprudence, for the firmness with which he defended 
himself, and still more for the admirable courage and constancy 
with which the jury maintained the verdict of acquittal which 
they pronounced. He showed on this, and on all other occa¬ 
sions, that he well understood and appreciated the free principles 
of the British constitution, and that he was resolved not to sur¬ 
render one iota of that liberty of conscience which he claimed 
for others, as well as for himself. “I am far from thinking it 
fit,” he said, in addressing the House of Commons, “because I 
exclaim against the injustice of whipping Quakers for Papists, 
that Papists should be whipped for their consciences. No, for 
though the hand pretended to be lifted up against them hath 
lighted heavily upon us, and we complain, yet we do not mean 
that any should take a fresh aim at them, or that they should 
come in our room, for we must give the liberty we ask, and 


WILLIAM PENN. 


315 


would have none suffer for a truly sober and conscientious dis¬ 
sent on any hand.” His views of religious toleration and civil 
liberty he has well and clearly explained in the treatise entitled 
“ England’s present Interest, &c.,” published in 1674, in which 
it formed part of his argument that the liberties of Englishmen 
were anterior to the settlement of the English church, and could 
not be affected by discrepancies in their religious belief. He 
maintained that ‘‘to live honestly, to do no injury to another, 
and to give every man his due, was enough to entitle every 
native to English privileges. It was this, and not his religion, 
which gave him the great claim to the protection of the govern¬ 
ment under which he lived. Near three hundred years before 
Austin set his foot on English ground, the inhabitants had a 
good constitution. This came not in with him. Neither did it 
come in with Luther; nor was it to go out with Calvin. We 
were a free people by the creation of God, by the redemption 
of Christ, and by the careful provision of our never-to-be-for¬ 
gotten, honourable ancestors : so that our claim to these English 
privileges, rising higher than Protestantism, could never justly 
be invalidated on account of nonconformity to any tenet or 
fashion it might prescribe.” 

In the same year died Sir William Penn, in perfect harmony 
with his son, towards whom he now felt the most cordial regard 
and esteem, and to whom he bequeathed an estate computed at 
1500?. a year, a large sum in that age. Towards the end of the 
year he was again imprisoned in Newgate for six months, the 
statutable penalty for refusing to take the oath of allegiance, 
which was maliciously tendered to him by a magistrate. This 
appears to have been the last absolute persecution for religion’s 
sake which he endured. Religion in England has generally met 
with more toleration, in proportion as it has been backed by 
the worldly importance of its professors: and though his poor 
brethren continued to suffer imprisonment in the stocks, fines, 
and whipping, as the penalty of their peaceable meetings for 
Divine worship, the wealthy proprietor, though he travelled 
largely, both in England and abroad, and laboured both in 
writing and in preaching, as the missionary of his sect, both 
escaped injury, and acquired reputation and esteem by his self- 
devotion. To the favour of the king and the Duke of York he 
had a hereditary claim, which appears always to have been 


316 LIVES OP EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

cheerfully acknowledged; and an instance of the rising consi¬ 
deration in which he was held, appears in his being admitted to 
plead, before a committee of the House of Commons, the request 
of the Quakers that their solemn affirmation should be admitted 
in the place of an oath. An enactment to this effect passed the 
Commons in 1678, but was lost, in consequence of a proroga¬ 
tion, before it had passed the Lords. It was on this occasion 
that he made that appeal in behalf of general toleration, of 
which a part is quoted in the preceding page. 

Penn married in 1672, and took up his abode at Rickmans- 
worth, in Hertfordshire. In 1677 we find him removed to 
Worminghurst, in Sussex, which long continued to be his place 
of residence. His first engagement in the plantation of America 
was in 1676 ; in consequence of being chosen arbitrator in a dis¬ 
pute between two Quakers, who had become jointly concerned 
in the colony of New Jersey. Though nowise concerned, by 
interest or proprietorship, (until 1681, when he purchased a 
share in the eastern district in New Jersey,) he took great pains 
in this business; he arranged terms, upon which colonists were 
invited to settle; and he drew up the outline of a simple consti¬ 
tution, reserving to them the right of making all laws by their 
representatives, of security from imprisonment or fine except 
by the consent of twelve men of the neighbourhood, and perfect 
freedom in the exercise of their religion: “regulations,” he said, 
“by an adherence to which they could never be brought into 
bondage but by their own consent.” In these transactions he 
had the opportunity of contemplating the glorious results which 
might be hoped from a colony founded with no interested views, 
but on the principles of universal peace, toleration, and liberty: 
and he felt an earnest desire to be the instrument in so great a 
work, more especially as it held out a prospect of deliverance to 
his persecuted Quaker brethren in England, by giving them a 
free and happy asylum in a foreign land. Circumstances fa¬ 
voured his wish. The crown was indebted to him 16,000?. for 
money advanced by the late admiral for the naval service. It 
was not unusual to grant not only the property, but the right 
of government, in large districts in the uncleared part of America, 
as in the ease of New York and New Jersey respectively to the 
Duke of York and Lord Baltimore: and though it was hopeless 
to extract money from Charles, yet he was ready enough, in 


WILLIAM PENN. 


317 


acquittal of this debt, to bestow on Penn, whom he loved, a 
tract of land from which he himself could never expect any 
pecuniary return. Accordingly, Penn received, in 1681, a 
grant by charter of that extensive province, named Pennsylva¬ 
nia by Charles himself, in honour of the admiral: by which 
charter he was invested with the property in the soil, with the 
power of ruling and governing the same ; of enacting laws, with 
the advice and approbation of the freemen of the territory as¬ 
sembled for the raising of money for public uses; of appointing 
judges, and administering justice. He immediately drew up 
and published “some account of Pennsylvania, &c.and then 
“ Certain Conditions or Concessions, &c.,” to be agreed on be¬ 
tween himself and those who wished to purchase land in the 
province. These having been accepted by many persons, he 
proceeded to frame the rough sketch of a constitution, on which 
he proposed to base the charter of the province. The price 
fixed on land was forty shillings, with the annual quit-rent of 
one shilling, for one hundred acres: and it was provided that no 
one should, in word or deed, affront or wrong any Indian with¬ 
out incurring the same penalty as if the offence had been com¬ 
mitted against a fellow-planter; that strict precautions should 
be taken against fraud in the quality of goods sold to them; and 
that all differences between the two nations should be adjudged 
by twelve men, six of each. And he declares his intention “ to 
leave myself and my successors no power of doing mischief; 
that the will of one man may not hinder the good of a whole 
country.” 

This constitution, as originally organized by Penn, consisted, 
says Mr. Clarkson, “ of a Governor, a Council, and an Assem¬ 
bly; the two last of which were to be chosen by, and therefore 
to be the representatives of, the people. The Governor was to 
be perpetual president, but he was to have but a treble vote. 
It was the office of the Council to prepare and propose bills, to 
see that the laws were executed, to take care of the peace and 
safety of the province, to settle the situation of ports, cities, 
market-towns, roads and other public places, to inspect the 
public treasury, to erect courts of justice, to institute schools 
for the virtuous education of youth, and to reward the authors 
of useful discovery. Not less than two-thirds of these were 
necessary to make a quorum, and the consent of not less than 


318 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


two-thirds of such quorum in all matters of moment. The As¬ 
sembly were to have no deliberative power, but when hills were 
brought to them from the governor and council, were to pass or 
reject them by a plain Yes or No. They were to present 
sheriffs and justices of the pea'ce to the governor; a double 
number, for his choice of half. They were to be chosen annu¬ 
ally, and to be chosen by secret ballot.” This groundwork was 
modified by Penn himself at later periods, and especially by 
removing that restriction which forbade the Assembly to debate, 
or to originate bills: and it was this, substantially, which Burke, 
in his “Account of the European Settlements in America,” de¬ 
scribes as “ that noble charter of privileges, by which he made 
them as free as any people in the world, and which has since 
drawn such vast numbers of so many different persuasions and 
such various countries to put themselves under the protection 
of his laws. He made the most perfect freedom, both religious 
and civil, the basis of his establishment; and this has done 
more towards the settling of the province, and towards the set¬ 
tling of it in a strong and permanent manner, than the wisest 
regulations could have done on any other plan.” 

In 1682, a number of settlers, principally Quakers, having 
been already sent out, Penn himself embarked for Pennsylvania, 
leaving his wife and children in England. On occasion of this 
parting, he addressed to them a long and affectionate letter, 
which presents a very beautiful picture of his domestic charac¬ 
ter, and affords a curious insight into the minute regularity of 
his daily habits. He landed on the banks of the Delaware in 
October, and forthwith summoned an assembly of the freemen 
of the province, by whom the frame of government, as it had 
been promulgated in England, was accepted. Penn’s principles 
did not suffer him to consider his title to the land as valid, with¬ 
out the consent of the natural owners of the soil. He had in¬ 
structed persons to negotiate a treaty of sale with the Indian 
nations before his own departure from England; and one of his 
first acts was to hold that memorable assembly, to which the 
history of the world offers none alike, at which this bargain was 
ratified, and a strict league of amity established. We do not 
find specified the exact date of this meeting, which took place 
under an enormous elm-tree, near the site of Philadelphia, and 
of which a few particulars only have been preserved by the un- 


WILLIAM PENN. 


319 


certain record of tradition. Well and faithfully was that treaty 
of friendship kept by the wild denizens of the woods: “ a 
friendship,” says Proud, the historian of Pennsylvania, “ which 
for the space of more than seventy years was never inter¬ 
rupted, or so long as the Quakers retained power in the govern¬ 
ment.” 

Penn remained in America until the middle of 1684. Dur¬ 
ing this time much was done towards bringing the colony into 
prosperity and order. Twenty townships were established, con¬ 
taining upwards of seven thousand Europeans; magistrates 
were appointed; representatives, as prescribed by the constitu¬ 
tion, were chosen, and the necessary public business transacted. 
In 1683, Penn undertook a journey of discovery into the inte¬ 
rior ; and he has given an interesting account of the country in 
its wild state, in a letter written home to the Society of Free 
Traders in Pennsylvania. He held frequent conferences with 
the Indians, and contracted treaties of friendship with nineteen 
distinct tribes. His reasons for returning to England appear 
to have been twofold; partly the desire to settle a dispute be¬ 
tween himself and Lord Baltimore, concerning the boundary 
of their provinces, but chiefly the hope of being able, by his 
personal influence, to lighten the sufferings and ameliorate the 
treatment of the Quakers in England. He reached England in 
October, 1684. Charles II. died in February, 1685. But this 
was rather favourable to Penn’s credit at court; for besides that 
James appears to have felt a sincere regard for him, he required 
for his own church that toleration which Penn wished to see 
extended to all alike. This credit at court led to the renewal 
of an old and assuredly most groundless report, that Penn was 
at heart a Papist—nay, that he was in priest’s orders, and a 
Jesuit: a report which gave him much uneasiness, and which 
he took much pains in public and in private to contradict. The 
same credit, and the natural and laudable affection and grati¬ 
tude towards the Stuart family, which he never dissembled, 
caused much trouble to him after the Revolution. He was con¬ 
tinually suspected of plotting to restore the exiled dynasty; 
was four times arrested, and as often discharged in the total 
absence of all evidence against him. During the years 1691, 
1692, and part of 1693, he remained in London, living, to avoid 
offence, in great seclusion: in the latter year he was heard in 


320 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


his own defence before the king and council, and informed that 
he need apprehend no molestation or injury. 

The affairs of Pennsylvania fell into some confusion during 
Penn’s long absence. Even in the peaceable sect of Quakers 
there were ambitious, bustling and selfish men; and Penn was 
not satisfied with the conduct either of the representative As¬ 
sembly, or of those to whom he had delegated his own powers. 
He changed the latter two or three times, without effecting the 
restoration of harmony: and these troubles gave a pretext for 
depriving him of his powers as governor, in 1693. The real 
cause was probably the suspicion entertained of his treasonable 
correspondence with James II. But he was reinstated in Au¬ 
gust, 1694, by a royal order, in which it was complimentarily 
expressed that the disorders complained of were produced en¬ 
tirely by his absence. Anxious as he was to return, he did not 
find an opportunity till 1699: the interval was chiefly employed 
in religious travel through England and Ireland, and in the 
labour of controversial writing, from which he seldom had a 
long respite. His course as a philanthropist on his return to 
America is honourably marked by an endeavour to ameliorate 
the condition of Negro slaves. The society of Quakers in Penn¬ 
sylvania had already come to a resolution, that the buying, sell¬ 
ing, and holding men in slavery was inconsistent with the tenets 
of the Christian religion: and following up this honourable de¬ 
claration, Penn had no difficulty in obtaining for them free ad¬ 
mission into the regular meetings for religious worship, and in 
procuring that other meetings should be holden for their parti¬ 
cular benefit. The Quakers therefore merit our respect as the 
earliest, as well as some of the most zealous emancipators. Mr. 
Clarkson says, “ When Penn procured the insertion of this 
resolution in the Monthly Meeting book of Philadelphia, he 
sealed as assuredly and effectually the abolition of the slave 
trade, and the emancipation of the negroes within his own pro¬ 
vince, as when he procured the insertion of the minute relating 
to the Indians in the same book, he sealed the civilization of the 
latter ; for, from the time the subject became incorporated into 
the discipline of the Quakers, they never lost sight of it. Se¬ 
veral of them began to refuse to purchase negroes at all; and 
others to emancipate those which they had in their possession, 
and this of their own accord, and purely from the motives of 


WILLIAM PENN. 


321 


religion; till at length it became a law of the society that no 
member could be concerned, directly or indirectly, either in 
buying and selling, or in holding them in bondage; and this 
law was carried so completely into effect, that in the year 1780, 
dispersed as the society was over a vast tract of country, there 
was not a single negro as a slave in the possession of an ac¬ 
knowledged Quaker. This example, soon after it had begun, 
was followed by others of other religious denominations.” 

In labouring to secure kind treatment, to raise the character, 
and to promote the welfare of the Indians, Penn was active 
and constant, during this visit to America, as before. The 
legislative measures which took place while he remained, and 
the bickerings between the Assembly and himself, we pass over, 
as belonging rather to a history of Pennsylvania, than to the 
biography of its founder. For the same reason we omit the 
charges preferred against him by Dr. Franklin. The union in 
one person of the rights belonging both to a governor and a 
proprietor, no doubt is open to objection; but this cannot be 
urged as a fault upon Penn; and we believe that it would be 
difficult to name any person who has used power and privilege 
with more disinterested views. That he was indifferent to his 
powers, or his emoluments, is not to be supposed, and ought not 
to have been expected. He spent large sums, he bestowed much 
pains upon the colony: and he felt and stated it to be a great 
grievance, that, whereas a provision was voted to the royal 
governor during the period of his own suspension, not so much 
as a table was kept for himself; and that instead of contribut¬ 
ing towards his expenses, even the trivial quit-rents which he 
had reserved remained unpaid: nay, it was sought by the As¬ 
sembly, against all justice, to divert them from him, towards the 
support of the government. It is to be recollected that Frank¬ 
lin wrote for a political object, to overthrow the privileges which 
Penn’s heirs enjoyed. 

The governor returned to England in 1701, to oppose a 
scheme agitated in parliament for abolishing the proprietary 
governments and placing the colonies immediately under royal 
control: the bill, however, was dropped before he arrived. He 
enjoyed Anne’s favour, as he had that of her father and uncle, 
and resided much in the neighbourhood of the court, at Ken¬ 
sington and Knightsbridge, In his religious labours he conti- 
41 


322 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


nued constant, as heretofore. He was much harassed by a law¬ 
suit, the result of too much confidence in a dishonest steward: 
which being decided against him, he was obliged for a time to 
reside within the rules of the Fleet Prison. This, and the ex¬ 
penses in which he had been involved by Pennsylvania, reduced 
him to distress, and in 1709 he mortgaged the province for 
,£6,600. In 1712, he agreed to sell his rights to the govern¬ 
ment for £12,000, hut was rendered unable to complete the 
transaction by three apoplectic fits, which followed each other 
in quick succession. He survived however in a tranquil and 
happy state, though with his bodily and mental vigour much 
broken, until July 30, 1718, on which day he died at his seat 
at Rushcomb, in Berkshire, where he had resided for some 
years. 

His first wife died in 1693. He married a second time in 
1696 ; and left a family of children by both wives, to whom he 
bequeathed his landed property in Europe and America. His 
rights of government he left in trust to the Earls of Oxford and 
Powlett, to he disposed of; but no sale being ever made, the 
government, with the title of proprietaries, devolved on the sur¬ 
viving sons of the second family. 

Penn’s numerous works were collected, and a life prefixed to 
them, in 1726. Select editions of them have been since pub¬ 
lished. Mr. Clarkson’s “ Life,” Proud’s “ History of Pennsyl¬ 
vania,” and Franklin’s “ Historical Review, &c., of Pennsylva¬ 
nia,” for a view of the exceptions which have been taken to 
Penn’s character as a statesman, may he advantageously con¬ 
sulted. 


SAMUEL JOHNSON. 


323 


SAMUEL JOHNSON. 



AMUEL JOHNSON was born September 
18, 1709, in the city of Lichfield, where his 
father, a man well respected for sense and 
learning, carried on the trade of a bookseller, 
and realized an independence, which he after¬ 
wards lost by an unsuccessful speculation. 
His mother also possessed a strong under¬ 
standing. From these parents Johnson de¬ 
rived a powerful body and a mind of uncommon 
force and compass. Unfortunately both mind 
and body were tainted by disease: the former, by 
a melancholy, of which he said that it had “ made 
him mad all his life—at least not sober;” the latter, 
by that scrofulous disorder called the king’s evil, for 
which, in compliance with a popular superstition, re¬ 
commended by the Jacobite principles of his family, 
he was touched by Queen Anne. By this disease he lost the 
sight of one eye, and the other was considerably injured—a 
calamity which combined with constitutional indolence to pre¬ 
vent his joining in the active sports of his school-fellows. 
Tardy in the performance of his appointed tasks, he mastered 
them with rapidity at last, and he early displayed great fond¬ 
ness for miscellaneous reading, and a remarkably retentive 
memory. After passing through several country schools, and 
spending near two years in a sort of busy idleness at home, he 
went to Pembroke College, Oxford, about the age of sixteen. 
There he made himself more remarkable by wit and humour, 
and negligence of college discipline, than by his labours for 
university distinction. His translation of Pope’s Messiah into 
Latin hexameters was the only exercise on which he bestowed 
much pains, or by which he obtained much credit. But his 
high spirits, unless the recollections of his earlier years were 


324 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


tinctured by his habitual despondency, were but the cloak of a 
troubled mind. “Ah! sir,” he said to Boswell, “I was mad 
and violent. It was bitterness which they mistook for frolic. 
I was miserably poor, and I thought to fight my way by my 
literature and my wit; so I disregarded all power and all au¬ 
thority.” His poverty, during this period, was indeed ex¬ 
treme ; and the scanty remittances by which he was supported, 
in much humiliation and inconvenience, were altogether stopped 
at last by his father’s insolvency. He had the mortification to 
be compelled to quit Oxford in the autumn of 1731, after three 
years’ residence, without taking a degree; and his father’s 
death, in the December following, threw him on the world with 
twenty pounds in his pocket. 

He first attempted to gain a livelihood in the capacity of 
usher to a school at Market-Bosworth, in Leicestershire. For 
that laborious and dreary task, he was eminently unfit, except 
by talent and learning, and he soon quitted a situation which 
he ever remembered with a degree of aversion amounting to 
horror. After his marriage, he tried the experiment of keeping 
a boafding-house near Lichfield, as principal, with little better 
success. From Bosworth he went to Birmingham, in 1733, 
where he composed his first work, a translation of the Jesuit 
Lobo’s Voyage to Abyssinia. He gained several kind and use¬ 
ful acquaintance in the latter town, among whom was Mr. 
Porter, a mercer, whose widow he married in 1735. She was 
double his age, and possessed neither beauty, fortune, nor at¬ 
tractive manners, yet she inspired him with an affection which 
endured, unchilled by the trials of poverty, unchanged by her 
death, even to the end of his own life, as his private records 
fully testify. She died in 1752. 

In March, 1737, Johnson set out for the metropolis, in hopes 
of mending his fortunes, as a man of letters, and especially of 
bringing on the stage his tragedy of Irene. It was long be¬ 
fore his desires were gratified in either respect. Irene was not 
performed till 1749, when his friend and former pupil, Garrick, 
had the management of Drury-Lane. Garrick’s zeal carried it 
through nine nights, so that the author, in addition to one hun¬ 
dred pounds from Dodsley for the copyright, had the profit of 
three nights’ performance, according to the mode of payment 
then in use. The play, however, though bearing the stamp of 


SAMUEL JOHNSON. 


325 


a vigorous and elevated mind, and by no means wanting in 
poetical merit, was unfit for acting, through its want of pathos 
and dramatic effect; and Johnson, perhaps, perceived his defi¬ 
ciency in these qualities, for he never again wrote for the stage. 
Garrick said of his friend that he had neither the faculty to 
produce, nor the sensibility to receive the impressions of tra¬ 
gedy, and his annotations upon Shakspeare confirm this judg¬ 
ment. 

His first employment, after his arrival in London, was as a 
frequent contributor to the Gentleman’s Magazine, from which, 
during some years, he derived his chief support. This was a 
period of labour, poverty, and often of urgent want. Some¬ 
times without a lodging, sometimes without a dinner, he became 
acquainted with the darker phases of a London life ; and, 
among other singular characters, a similarity of fortunes made 
him acquainted with the notorious Richard Savage, whom he 
regarded with affection, and whose life is one of the most pow¬ 
erful productions of Johnson’s pen. 

In the thoughts suggested, and the knowledge taught, by this 
rough collision with the world, we may conjecture his imitation 
of the third satire of Juvenal, entitled London, to have origi¬ 
nated. To the majority of the nation, it was recommended by 
its strong invectives against the then unpopular ministry of Sir 
Robert Walpole, as well as by the energy of thought and style, 
the knowledge of his subject, and the lively painting in which 
it abounds. It reached a second edition in the course of a 
week, and Boswell tells us, on contemporary authority, that 
«the first buz of the literary circles was, < here is an unknown 
poet, greater even than Pope.’ ” Yet this admired poem pro¬ 
duced only ten guineas to its author, and appears to have done 
nothing towards improving his prospects, or giving a commer¬ 
cial value to his name. His chief employment was still fur¬ 
nished by the Gentleman’s Magazine; and, in November, 1740, 
he undertook to report, or rather to write, the parliamentary 
debates for that publication. At that time the privileges of 
Parliament were very strictly interpreted, and the avowed pub¬ 
lication of debates would have been rigorously suppressed. 
Such a summary, however, as could be preserved in the memory 
was carried away by persons employed for the purpose, and 
the task which Johnson undertook was to expand and adorn 


326 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


their imperfect hints from the stores of his own eloquence. In 
doing which, he took care, as he afterwards acknowledged, that 
“the Whig dogs should not have the best of it.” The speeches, 
of course, were referred to fictitious names, and were published 
under the title, Debates of the Senate of Lilliput; but, in Feb¬ 
ruary, 1743, Johnson, on finding that they were esteemed ge¬ 
nuine, desisted from the employment, declaring that he would 
not be accessary to the propagation of falsehood. So scrupu¬ 
lous was he on this score, that forty years after, not long be¬ 
fore his death, he expressed his regret at having been the author 
of fictions that had passed for realities. 

For a detailed account of this early portion of Johnson’s 
literary history, we refer the reader to Boswell’s Life, and the 
list of Johnson’s works thereto prefixed, and pass on at once 
to those greater performances to which he owes his eminent 
rank among British writers. Of these the earliest and most 
celebrated is his Dictionary of the English Language. How 
long the plan of this work had been meditated, before it was 
actually commenced, is uncertain. He told Boswell that his 
knowledge of our language was not the effect of particular 
study, but had grown up insensibly in his mind. That he un¬ 
derrated the time and labour requisite for such a work, is evi¬ 
dent from his promising in his prospectus, issued in 1747, to 
complete it in three years. He, probably, had also underrated 
the needful knowledge and amount of preparatory study. In 
fact it was not published till 1755. He received for it 1575Z., 
of which, however, a very considerable portion was spent in 
expenses. The prospectus was addressed to Lord Chesterfield, 
who expressed himself warmly in favour of the design, and 
from that time forward treated the author with neglect until 
the time of publication drew nigh, when he again assumed the 
character of a patron. Fired at this, Johnson repudiated his 
assistance in a dignified but sarcastic letter, which is printed 
by Boswell. The transaction merits notice, for it is character¬ 
istic of Johnson’s independent spirit, and excited at the time 
much curiosity and comment. 

The Dictionary was justly esteemed a wonderful work. It 
established at once the author’s reputation among his contem¬ 
poraries, and was long regarded as the supreme standard by 
which disputed points in the English language were to be tried. 


SAMUEL JOHNSON. 


327 


Johnson’s chief qualification for the task lay in the accuracy 
of his definitions and the extent of his various and well-remem¬ 
bered reading. His chief disqualification lay in his ignorance 
of the cognate Teutonic languages, the stock from which the 
hulk and strength of our own is derived; and, in propor¬ 
tion as the history and philosophy of the English language 
have been more extensively studied, has the need of a more 
learned and philosophical work of reference been felt. The 
verbose style of his definitions is rather a fruitful theme of ridi¬ 
cule than an important fault. Shortly, before its publication, 
he received from the University of Oxford, which through life 
he regarded with great affection and veneration, the honorary 
degree of M. A., a mark of respect by which he was highly 
gratified. 

That his labour in composing this work was not severe, may 
be inferred from the variety of literary employments in which, 
during its progress, he found time and inclination to engage, 
among which we may select for mention the imitation of Juve¬ 
nal’s tenth satire, entitled Vanity of Human Wishes, and the 
periodical paper called the Rambler, which was published twice 
a week, from March 20, 1750, to March 17, 1752. Of the 
whole series, according to Boswell, only four papers, and a part 
of a fifth, were contributed by other pens ; and it is remarka¬ 
ble, considering the general gravity of the subjects and the 
elaboration of the style, that most of them were struck off at 
a heat, when constitutional indolence could procrastinate no 
longer, without even being read over before they were printed. 
The circulation of the work was small; for its merits, which 
lie chiefly in moral instruction and literary criticism, were of 
too grave a cast to ensure favour ; the lighter parts, and the 
attempts at humour, are the least successful. But its popu¬ 
larity increased as the author’s fame rose, and fashion recom¬ 
mended his grandiloquent style, and before his death it went 
through numerous editions in a collected form. 

In 1756, he issued proposals for an edition of Shakspeare, a 
scheme which he had contemplated as long back as 1745, when 
he published Miscellaneous Observations on the Tragedy of Mac¬ 
beth. He promised to complete it before Christmas, 1757 ; 
but it did not appear until October, 1765. Imperfectly versed 
in the antiquities, literature, and language of the Elizabethan 


328 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


era, the source from which almost all valuable comment on the 
early dramatists has been drawn, he has done little to elucidate 
difficulties or correct errors. His Preface has been esteemed 
among the most valuable of his critical essays. But the peru¬ 
sal of his notes, and especially of his summary criticisms on 
the several plays, will confirm Garrick’s judgment as to his 
sensibility, and show that he wanted that delicate perception 
and deep knowledge of the workings of the passions which 
were necessary to the adequate fulfilment of his most difficult 
task. 

From April 15, 1758, to April 5, 1760, Johnson wrote a 
second periodical paper, called the Idler. Twelve only, out of 
one hundred and three essays, were contributed by his friends; 
the rest were generally written with as much haste, and are of 
slighter texture, than those of the Rambler. Rasselas, Prince 
of Abyssinia, he wrote in the beginning of 1759, to defray the 
expenses of his mother’s funeral, and pay some trifling debts 
which she had left. He told Sir Joshua Reynolds that it was 
composed in the evenings of one week, and sent to the press in 
portions as it was written. This anecdote affords a good in¬ 
stance of Johnson’s facility and power, when an adequate sti¬ 
mulus was applied. From the rich imagery, and the varied, 
powerful strain of reflection which pervade it, and the elabo¬ 
rated pomp of its style, it would assuredly be taken for the 
product of mature consideration, labour, and frequent revision. 
For this he received one hundred pounds, and twenty-five 
pounds more at a second edition. It has been translated into 
most European languages. 

In 1762, Johnson accepted a pension of 300Z., for which he 
underwent considerable obloquy. This was entirely unde¬ 
served, though in some sort he had brought it on himself by 
indulging his satirical bias and political predilections in a way¬ 
ward definition of the words pension and pensioner , in his Dic¬ 
tionary, where other instances occur of his indulging the hu¬ 
mour of the moment, whether it prompted him to spleen or 
merriment. Why he should not have accepted tlfe pension, no 
sound reason can be given. His Jacobitical predilections, never 
probably so strong as he used to represent them in the heat of 
argument, were lost, like those of others, in the hopelessness 
of the cause, and his Toryism naturally led him to transfer hi» 


SAMUEL JOHNSON. 


329 


full respect and allegiance to the reigning king, who never was 
suspected of an undue bias towards Whigism. The sum bestowed 
was no more than an honourable testimony to his literary emi¬ 
nence and a comfortable provision for his declining age; and, 
as far as it is possible to form an opinion on such matters, the 
gift was unstained by any compact, expressed or understood, 
for political support. 

Among the more important events of Johnson’s life, we are 
bound to mention his acquaintance with Mr. Boswell, which 
commenced in 1763, not only because it formed an important 
article among the pleasures of the philosopher’s declining years, 
but because it led to the composition and publication of the 
most lively and vivid picture ever given by one man of an¬ 
other, the Life of Johnson. By Boswell, Johnson was induced, 
in compliance with a wish that he had long before entertained, 
to undertake a journey to the Scottish Highlands and the Heb¬ 
rides ; and it is remarkable that the first English book of tra¬ 
vels (as we believe) into what, to the English, was then almost 
a terra incognita , should have been composed by a man so care¬ 
less of natural beauty, and so little disposed to sacrifice his 
ease and habits to the cravings of curiosity, as Johnson. His 
desire to visit that country seems to have arisen rather from a 
wish to study society in a simple form than from any taste for 
the wild beauties of those northern regions, of which he saw not 
the most favourable specimen, and has given not a flattering 
account. His Journey to the Western Islands will be read with 
pleasure, abounding in acute observation, passages of lofty elo¬ 
quence and grateful acknowledgment of the kindness and hos¬ 
pitality which he received—kindness which his snappish railings 
against the Scotch in general never led him to undervalue or 
forget. His companion and disciple’s account of their expedi¬ 
tion will, however, be read with more amusement, from present¬ 
ing such vivid pictures of the author himself, as well as of the 
subject which he painted, and of the varied characters to which 
they were introduced, and scenes in which they intermingled. 
We may here add that Johnson was a resolute unbeliever in the 
authenticity of Macpherson’s Ossian, against which, in his book, 
he pronounced a decided judgment. He thus gave considera¬ 
ble offence to national vanity. To the claims of second-sight 
he was more favourable. Throughout life he was influenced by 
42 2 e 2 


330 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


a belief, not only in the possibility, but in the occasional exer¬ 
tion of supernatural agencies beyond the regular operation of 
the laws of nature. 

In 1775, Johnson received from the University of Oxford 
the honorary degree of D. C. L. The same degree had been 
conferred on him some time before by the University of Dublin ; 
but he did not then assume the title of Doctor. His only, sub¬ 
sequent work which requires notice is the Lives of the English 
Poets, written for a collective edition of them, which the book¬ 
sellers were about to publish. To the selection of the authors 
praise cannot be given. Many ornaments to British literature are 
omitted, and many obscure persons have found a place in the 
collection; this, however, probably was not Johnson’s fault. 
The publication began in 1779, and was not completed till 
1781. The lives have gone through many editions by them¬ 
selves. Though strongly coloured by personal and political 
predilections, they contain much sound criticism, and form a 
valuable article in British biography. 

Many incidents connected with Johnson’s life, his places of 
residence, his domestication in Mr. Thrale’s family, his connec¬ 
tion with The Club, and the like, have been made generally 
known by the amusing works of Boswell, Mrs. Piozzi, and 
others. Perhaps public curiosity was never so strongly directed 
towards the person, habits, and conversation of any man 
known only as an author, and certainly it never has been so 
amply gratified. Boswell’s Life of Johnson is unique in its 
kind. 

His powers of conversation were very great, and not only 
commanded the admiration and deference of his contempora¬ 
ries, but have contributed in a principal degree to the uphold¬ 
ing of his traditionary fame. They were deformed by an as¬ 
sumption of superiority, and an intolerance of contradiction or 
opposition, which often betrayed him into offensive rudeness. 
Yet his temper was at bottom affectionate and humane, his 
attachments strong, and his charity only bounded, and scarcely 
bounded, by his means. 

The latter years of Dr. Johnson’s life were overshadowed by 
much gloom. Many of his old and most valued friends sank into 
the grave before him. His bodily frame was much shattered by 
disease, his spirits became more liable to depression, and his 


SAMUEL JOHNSON. 


331 


sincere and ardent piety was too deeply tinged by constitutional 
despondency to afford him steady comfort and support under 
bis sufferings. He was struck by palsy in 1783, but recovered 
the use both of his bodily and mental faculties. A compli¬ 
cation of asthma and dropsy put an end to his existence, De¬ 
cember 13, 1785. During his illness, his anxiety for a pro¬ 
tracted life was painfully intense; but his last hours are 
described by the bystanders to have been calm, happy, and 
confident. He was buried in Westminster Abbey. A statue 
to his memory is erected in St. Paul’s Cathedral. 


332 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


NICHOLAS LOUIS ZINZENDORF. 



OUNT ZINZENDORF, the father of the later 
Moravians, was horn at Dresden, in Saxony, 
May 26, 1700. His father, who was state- 
minister to the elector, died when Nicholas 
was young; and his education devolved upon 
his grandmother, the learned and pious Ma¬ 
dame Yon Gersdorf. As she maintained a 
correspondence with many religious men, and 
favoured to a considerable degree the opinions of 
the Pietists, her house was the resort of those who 
delighted in religious conversation and instruction. 
At many of their meetings, Zinzendorf was present; 
he listened with delight to expositions of the pure 
principles of the gospel and narratives of pious men; 
and with the natural ardour of youth, he permitted his 
imagination to dwell upon what he almost daily heard, 
until his mind bordered upon a state of fanaticism. Sometimes 
he threw out of his window little letters addressed to the Saviour, 
in the hope that the Divine being would actually find them. 
When, at the age of ten years, he entered the academy of Halle, 
these religious impressions, besides strengthening, had become 
so tinged with mysticism, that he instituted the secret, religious 
order of the Mustard Seed, and held among his fellow-pupils 
weekly religious meetings. His grandmother appears to have 
regarded this disposition with pleasure; but his uncle and 
guardian, desiring to prepare his nephew for business, removed 
him from Halle to the University of Wittenberg. The change 
produced no effect upon the young man’s mind. He still ad¬ 
hered to his faith in the Pietists; and at the second centennial 
anniversary of the Reformation, in 1717, he lamented in the 
solitude of his room the degeneracy of the times. Without 
guidance from any one, or even the assistance of books, he com- 


NICHOLAS LOUIS ZINZENDORF. 


333 


menced at this time the study of theology, with the design of 
entering upon the minstry. 

In 1719, Zinzendorf abandoned the university, and set out 
on the tour through Holland and France, which he has described 
in his 44 Pilgrimage of Atticus through the World.” Most of 
his time during this journey appears to have been occupied in 
conversations with different divines on the subject of religion. 
In 1721, after his return, he was appointed to office under the 
government of Dresden. He retained it six years, devoting his 
time principally to the study of theology. In the year follow¬ 
ing this appointment, he married the young Countess of Reuss 
Yon Ebersdorf. 

About this time, a considerable body of emigrant Moravians, 
driven by persecution from their own country, took refuge in 
Germany. The religious feelings of Zinzendorf naturally in¬ 
clined him to favour these people; and he even appears to have 
previously entertained much esteem for their creed and charac¬ 
ter. Moved by their destitution, he gave them permission to 
settle on his estate of Berthelsdorf in Upper Lusatia, a place 
which they afterwards named Herrnhut, or 44 protection of the 
Lord.” At first, the settlers were few; but as persecution 
increased in other countries, their number enlarged by acces¬ 
sions from various denominations besides their own. Zinzendorf 
and a Lutheran minister named Rothe laboured to instruct 
them and their children. In a short time, however, material 
differences of opinion concerning forms and doctrine manifested 
themselves, thus demonstrating the propriety of a general agree¬ 
ment concerning faith and rules of conduct. Accordingly, Zin¬ 
zendorf proposed articles of union, whose object was to form a 
Christian society on principles similar to those which existed in 
the apostolic age. In these articles, the distinctive doctrines 
of the different Protestant denominations were omitted; the 
fundamental truths of Scripture, upon which they all agreed, 
were adopted as articles of faith; and a social compact and dis¬ 
cipline, similar to that of the apostolic family, formed the basis 
of union. After mature consideration, these articles were 
adopted under the title of the brotherly agreement; and this 
adoption, which occurred in 1727, was the ground of the modern 
society of United Brethren. The most important principles of 
this denomination are, that the Scriptures are the only rule of 


334 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


faith; that the Holy Spirit is given to every believer to guide 
him into all truth; that theological discussions should be avoided, 
while practical experience forms the basis of individual piety; 
that the teachings, life, and example of Christ, as exhibited by 
the plain words of Scripture, are the sure rule of faith; that 
temporal affairs should be regulated according to the will of 
God, so far as that will can be gathered from Scripture; that 
their peculiar regulations, so far from being essential, should be 
altered whenever such alteration may promote the great object— 
the advancement of piety; and that a member of any Christian 
denomination may join their society without renouncing his 
creed or church. 

Such was the pure and simple faith on which Zinzendorf 
based his new society, and to the promotion of which he after¬ 
wards sacrificed his entire estate. We cannot follow the self- 
denying labours of the new denomination any further than they 
are connected with the personal history of Zinzendorf; but it 
may be remarked in general, that the obstacles to the com¬ 
mencing of the society’s operation, and the trials subsequently 
endured by its missionaries, would have discouraged one less 
energetic and less pious than Zinzendorf. Such was his anxiety 
to become a preacher, that, in 1734, he went under an assumed 
name to Stralsund, passed an examination as a theological can¬ 
didate, and preached for the first time in the city church. After 
visiting several countries, with a view to gain some to his society, 
he was, in 1736, banished from Saxony. Retiring to Berlin, he 
was created bishop of the Moravian church at that place, when, 
as he could not preach, he held weekly meetings, which were 
well attended. In 1739, he visited the Brethren’s missions in 
the West Indies, and two years later, those in North America. 
During this visit, he preached and wrote incessantly, and esta¬ 
blished missions among several of the Indian tribes. Among 
his books, written at this time, are many for the instruction of 
the Brethren, a number in defence of himself or his doctrines, 
against attacks from various quarters, and a variety of hymns, 
of which some are still used by the Moravians in their public 
worship. They are described as containing quaint or gross 
images, and as not evincing a great amount of inspiration. His 
writings are also tinged with mysticism and ambiguity, attri- 


NICHOLAS LOUIS ZINZENDORF. 


335 


butable in a great measure to the haste in which they were 
composed. 

Zinzendorf returned to Europe in 1743. Travelling to Livo¬ 
nia, he was stopped by command of the Russian government, 
and sent back under military escort. He then visited Holland 
and England, remaining in the latter country about four years, 
and under the countenance of Archbishop Porter, General Ogle¬ 
thorpe, and others, obtained an act of parliament for the pro¬ 
tection of the Moravians in Great Britain. In 1647, the order 
of his banishment from his country was repealed. From this 
time until his death, in 1760, he continued to preach, write, and 
travel, devoting all his labours to the interests of the society 
which he had founded. He established a Moravian academy; 
obtained from a commission of investigation a declaration that 
the United Brethren were true adherents to the Confession of 
Augsburg; and though opposed by learned men of nearly every 
denomination, he had the satisfaction of seeing his followers 
increase, and of sending out missions to heathen countries. 
His followers have extended their benevolent efforts to climes 
the most inhospitable and forbidding; and hundreds of Chris¬ 
tian communities have, through his influence, been established 
amid the snows of Greenland, the rocks of Labrador, the forests 
of the Western World, and the glowing sands of the Eastern 
tropics. 


336 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


DAVID BRAINERD. 



RAINERD has written his own biography, with 
a minuteness which renders some of its scenes 
painful. He was horn at Haddam, Connecticut, 
in April, 1718, and was the son of Hezekiah 
Brainerd, one of the king’s counsel. At an early 
age he lost his father, and a few years after, his 
3* mother. These bereavements seemed to have so 
powerfully affected his mind, that for six years 
he was haunted by thoughts of death, and a con¬ 
sciousness of his wickedness. He sought relief in 
a strict performance of religious duties, but his dis¬ 
tress remained, and this period of his life was one 
of constant struggling and mental affliction. At the 
age of twenty, he resolved to devote himself to the 
ministry, and, as a preparatory step, entered the family 
of Mr. Fiske, pastor of the church at Haddam. Here 
the impotency of his self-righteous acts became apparent to 
him. “My former good frames,” he says, “that I pleased 
myself with, all vanished. There appeared mountains before 
me to obstruct my hopes of mercy; and I begrudged in my walks 
the birds and beasts their happiness. I used to put off the dis¬ 
covery of my own heart as what I could not bear. My sins 
were like swift messengers against me. I strove to heal myself, 
but it could not be. The many disappointments, the distresses 
and perplexities I felt, threw me into a terrible frame of mind. 
Often I used to imagine my heart was not so had ; but suddenly 
it would break over all bounds, and burst forth on all sides like 
floods of water. I scarcely dared to sleep at all, lest I should 
awake in that fearful world.” 

But this miserable condition was at length terminated, and 
the mourner was permitted to rejoice in the knowledge of the 
true way of life. He then entered Yale College, where he 


DAVID BRAINERD. 


387 


studied with such ardour as soon laid him upon a bed of sick¬ 
ness. In the great revival of religion at New Haven, during 
the following year, Brainerd was deeply interested, and with 
several other students held a series of religious meetings, in the 
rooms of the college. At the age of twenty-four he received 
license to preach, and soon after he was stationed among the 
Indians at Kanaumech, a place in the. wilderness, twenty miles 
distant from any English settlement. Here, shut out from all 
society, except that of a friendly Highlander and his wife, Brain- 
erd’s sufferings were great. His diet was meagre and unwhole¬ 
some, his lodging a log hut, and his bed a bundle of straw spread 
on boards. After some months, a hut was raised for him; and 
his condition on moving into it he thus feelingly describes: 
“I am now quite alone; no friend to communicate any of my 
sorrows to, or take sweet counsel together. In my weak state 
of health, I had no bread, nor could I get any. I am forced 
to go or send ten or fifteen miles for all the bread I eat, and 
sometimes it is mouldy and sour before I get it.” Again he 
says: “I had to travel day and night in stormy and severe 
weather, though very ill, and full of pain. Was almost outdone 
with the extreme fatigue and wet, yet few that I sought were 
disposed to converse of heavenly things. I love to live alone in 
my own little cottage, where I can spend much time in prayer. 
During the fifteen months past, I have been enabled to bestow 
to charitable uses, a hundred and eighty pounds.” At the same 
time he was studying the English language under Mr. Sergeant 
of Stockbridge, a distance of twenty miles. He rode there and 
back in all weathers, occasionally visiting Kinderhook and Al¬ 
bany, but, as it would seem, with little success or encourage¬ 
ment. The Dutch settlers at those places were wholly immersed 
in worldly business. They rose at dawn and retired to bed at 
sunset. No vehicle, save a wagon, ever passed their streets,, 
and the busy hum of dissipation, pleasure, and active employ¬ 
ment which betokens modern civilized life was unknown. At 
eve, the whole family gathered round the vast patriarchal chim¬ 
ney, with its rustic decorations and stone seats—the men to 
smoke and muse, the women to knit, and talk at intervals of the 
world of Albany and Kinderhook. 

After Brainerd had been at Kanauhook about a year, the com¬ 
missioners resolved to send him to the Delaware river. He accord- 
43 2 F 


338 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ingly gathered the Indians around him and preached to them for 
the last time; and after disposing of his household goods and 
other materials, he set out for his new field of labour. On the 
way, his trials, temptations, and hardships were so numerous, 
that on more than one occasion he was on the point of throw¬ 
ing himself on the ground to await the approach of death. He 
was encouraged, however, to proceed, and on several occasions 
he preached to small Indian assemblies, whom he met on his 
route. While thus engaged, he was suddenly called to Newark, 
N. J., in order to be fully ordained for the ministry. After re¬ 
ceiving this summons he passed many days in severe preparatory 
study. Before the presbytery he delivered his probationary 
sermon, and afterwards passed an examination. This being highly 
satisfactory, he was encouraged for the missionary work which 
he had undertaken, and again set out to enter upon his new field 
on the Delaware. Here he appears to have met with little suc¬ 
cess, and he afterwards obtained permission of the governor at 
Philadelphia, to open a mission upon the Susquehanna. After 
his first sermon at an Indian village on that river, he went from 
house to house, conversing as well as he could with the inmates, 
and explaining to them the truths which they had just heard. 
The narrative of his condition and feelings at this time is most 
touching. “Next day, rose at four in the morning, and travelled 
with great steadiness till six at night; then made a fire and a 
shelter of barks. The wolves howled around us. The follow¬ 
ing night we lost our way; it was very dark—few stars to be 
seen. Formerly, when exposed to cold and rain, I was ready 
to please myself with the thoughts of enjoying a comfortable 
house, a warm fire, and other pleasures. Came to a lone dwell¬ 
ing where was one dead and laid out. Looked on the corpse— 
it was the youthful owner of the house, and his widow lamented 
for him. Death had found him out in his solitude. 0 death, 
thou art no king of terrors; thou art a kind guest; when shall 
I meet thee as a man meets his friend ?” Strange that a spirit 
so gloomy and desponding could find occupation in advancing 
that kingdom whose great object is to spread joy on earth and 
good will to men. 

On returning to the Delaware, Brainerd built for himself a 
small cabin, and recommenced his instructions to the Indians. 
Btill he was surrounded by difficulties. At that time a number 


DAVID BRAINERD. 


339 


of French settlers in the neighbourhood had incurred the dis¬ 
pleasure of the Indians, and a plot was laid to destroy them. 
At a given signal the red men rushed upon their neighbours, 
and massacred the entire number. The horrors of this scene 
were added to the unavoidable hardships by which Brainerd was 
surrounded. Winter was fast approaching : snow and hail beat 
into his desolate dwelling; no friend was near to aid him in its 
construction; and when the toils of the day were over, and he 
sat down at night to read by the light of a torch, the howling 
of wolves and bears broke in upon the solitude, mingling in fear¬ 
ful unison with the crash of falling trees, or the loud roar of the 
swollen river. But on the return of spring his prospects 
brightened. The Indians came in considerable numbers to hear 
his preaching; the interpreter became hopefully converted; a 
chief one hundred years old followed ; and afterwards in a great 
meeting held in New Jersey, many hundreds were deeply affect¬ 
ed. Cheered by this success, and resolving to make New Jersey 
his principal field of labour, he stationed himself at Crossweek- 
sung, not far from the sea. ‘‘It was late at night. All day I 
had laboured with this people ; my soul, my soul that had longed 
for this hour was transported with joy. How I grieved to leave 
the place. Earth, cover not thou my head yet a while; though 
the thoughts of death are sweet, I would fain stay while this 
great w T ork advances.” The Indians abandoned, one by one, 
their idolatrous practices, and in a little while invited the mis¬ 
sionary to their houses, so as to converse upon matters of re¬ 
ligion. 

After remaining at this place for some time, Brainerd set out 
for the Susquehanna, where he hoped to see a similar reforma¬ 
tion effected. He was disappointed and soon returned. For 
a while his labours at Crossweeksung were divided between preach¬ 
ing, examining the new converts, and administering baptism. 
Some came fifty miles to hear him. “I stood amazed,” he 
writes, “ at the influence that seemed to descend upon the as¬ 
sembly, and with an astonishing energy bore down all before it, 
and could compare it to nothing more aptly than to a mighty 
torrent. The most fierce and stubborn hearts were now obliged 
to bow. Their concern was so great, each for himself, that 
none seemed to take any notice of those about them, but each 
prayed for himself. Each seemed to mourn apart.” Yet even 


340 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


in this prosperity he was again tempted to set out for the Sus¬ 
quehanna. During the journey he was overtaken by a snow¬ 
storm, and nearly perished. Next day his horse and that of the 
interpreter were disabled by eating a poisonous plant; and after¬ 
wards the missionary was seized with a burning fever from 
which he narrowly escaped with life. He was obliged to cross 
mountains where there were but few human abodes. Height 
after height arose before him, which the white man’s foot had 
never pressed. Sometimes a wide circuit became necessary in 
order to avoid a precipice; and often a deep glen, where the 
sun never fell, afforded the only shelter at night. The dangers 
were augmented by floods of melted snow, which, descending in 
torrents from the mountain tops, swept rock and forest before 
them in irresistible ruin. During three weeks Brainerdand his 
companion lay at night on the ground. 

This visit to the Susquehanna, was to as little purpose as 
the former ones. The Indians were civil and friendly, but 
“bad listeners and worse believers.” He was welcomed how¬ 
ever to their wigwams: they spread before him the game they 
had killed; and when the warriors "were hunting, he had free 
access to the older chiefs, the children and the women. They were 
astonished at his temperate habits, and in a little while began to 
look upon him with a feeling approaching to awe. At evening 
when the men came from hunting, Brainerd would endeavour to 
gain the attention of the chiefs; but if their chase had been 
unsuccessful they would throw themselves upon the ground, soured 
through hunger and weariness. After remaining at this place 
for a short time Brainerd returned to New Jersey. 

It might be supposed that in this favourite retreat, where 
seventy Indians had now been baptized, the missionary would have 
been willing to end his days. But Brainerd’s mind was restless 
and desultory. Having once made a deep impression, he 
quickly began to sigh for some other scene, where his message 
had not yet been received. He could have braved a martyr’s 
death; but the calm, firm patience, pressing on slowly but surely 
towards its object, he was a stranger to. “I will then say,” 
(he writes soon after reaching New Jersey once more) Farewell 
earthly comforts and friends, the dearest of them all; the very 
dearest, if the Lord calls for it, adieu, adieu. I’ll spend my life 


DAVID BRAINERD. 


341 


to my latest moment in caves and dens of the earth, if the king¬ 
dom of Christ may be advanced.” 

The next field of Brainerd’s labours was a small Dutch settle¬ 
ment near the Delaware. He again reared a hut; and soon 
these sturdy settlers gathered their homes around his, and lis¬ 
tened to his instructions. They were in a little while joined by 
a number of Indians. Brainerd procured a schoolmaster for 
the children and younger people. These were taught during 
the day, and the older ones at night. The next step in their 
Christian advancement was the erection of a church. Here, 
after a strict examination, Brainerd administered the sacrament 
to the converts. “ It was received with great solemnity and 
seriousness, and seemed to diffuse through their hearts great 
union and love toward each other.” Such was the effect of his 
labours at this time, that companies of the natives frequently 
retired into the woods and spent the greater part, or all of the 
night, in devotional exercises. During the day they collected 
around the missionary for instruction. His method of instruc¬ 
tion was to give historical relations from Scripture of the most 
remarkable occurrences, or to expound chapters of the New 
Testament, and then to propose questions on the chief parts, 
until the whole was thoroughly impressed upon the mind. 

A change had come over the outward prospects of this devoted 
man. His fame had spread, not by his wish, but because it 
could not be repressed, and other ministers, at the distance of 
fifty of sixty miles, often invited him to their dwellings. It is 
touching to read in his narrative how he came, sometimes at 
night to some friendly roof, where many comforts invited him 
to stay a while, the kind words and pitying looks of the women, 
their minute attentions to his failing health, the sympathy of 
his brother ministers to whom his coming was so welcome; the 
evening circle gathered round the fire; the soft couch and the 
prepared chamber. But he rarely stayed on these visits more 
than one or two days ; and so fatal had been the ravages of the 
destroyer upon his still youthful frame, that in riding backward 
and forward, six Indian companions accompanied him, and some¬ 
times caught him in their arms as he fell fainting from his horse. 
But he was encouraged by the rapid progress of religion among 
his people. His unwearied efforts and entreaties by day and 

2 p 2 


342 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


night, from house to house and with each individual, were the 
source of much happiness to the converts. 

But amid all this prosperity, the dark spirit of melancholy still 
haunted the missionary’s mind. “ I am in a kind of stifled horror, 
(he writes,) so that I cannot rest. Is it possible for such a one 
as me to be in a state of grace ? The deep waters, the torrents 
of corruption that bear me down. I got into a kind of hovel 
in the wild, and there gave vent to the depth of my distress— 
neither eating nor drinking from morning to evening, beseeching 
God to have mercy on me.” Yet even while in this dreadful 
condition, he journied from place to place, visiting, among other 
towns, Zeisberger’s settlement at Bethlehem, and Elizabethtown, 
in New Jersey. At Northampton he consulted Dr. Mather con¬ 
cerning his health, who declared him to be in a rapid consump¬ 
tion, and advised him to go to Boston. His reputation had pre¬ 
ceded him, and the interest of all classes were greatly excited 
at his coming. Ministers, both from the town and country, 
visited him continually. Many gentlemen gave large donations 
for his Indian mission, and every week brought from Crossweek- 
sung news of fresh triumphs. The commissioners of Boston 
allowed him to select two missionaries to be sent to the Six Na¬ 
tions. This was the last important action of Brainerd. That 
night an unwonted joy pervaded his frame. His fierce tempta¬ 
tions were past. All the mercies of his checkered career, the 
days and nights of agonizing prayer, the presence and love of 
the Comforter, the dread struggle and the triumph, all gathered 
round his parting soul, like swift and glorious witnesses. His 
companion during his stay in Boston was the young daughter 
of President Edwards. On the following morn she camp into 
his room. Looking earnestly at her, he expressed his grief at 
parting with her, and expressed the glad confidence of meeting 
her in another world. During the day he lay in great agony, 
and expired at daybreak on the following morning. He was 
but twentynine years old. 

Few will read our sketch of poor Brainerd, short and imper¬ 
fect as it is, without a sigh. There was never a more striking 
instance of the magical influence of the spirit over the frame, 
urging it to incredible exertions and hardships, and yet warding 
off the dissolution which tracked it at every step. There seems 
something sublime in his life, and heroic in his early doom. The 


DAVID BRAINERD. 


343 


corruptions of our nature, over which he mourns, were scourged 
with a rod of iron. His weakness was made perfect in the Di¬ 
vine strength, and the foot of the cross was his only refuge, 
when “the blast of the terrible ones was upon him.” At their 
coming he shrunk and cowered, for it was dreadful—the horror 
of thick darkness. But afterwards his spirit returned, and he 
looked to Heaven with gratitude and love. 

Brainerd was buried at Northampton; and three months after, 
his grave was re-opened, and the lovely young being who had 
shed bitter tears while w'atching her dying friend, and over 
whom eighteen summers had scarcely passed, was lowered down 
to sleep by his side. 


344 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JOHN WESLEY. 



OHN WESLEY, the founder of Methodism, 
was born on the 17th of June, 1703, at the 
village of Epworth in Lincolnshire, England. 
His ancestors were men eminent for piety, 
and a zealous adherence to what conscience 
taught them was right. They have left on 
record many noble instances of integrity and 
firmness of mind under severe persecution, and 
indeed it would seem that the family inheritance 
was a high sense of religious duty, with a total 
disregard for secular interests in connection there¬ 
with. John Wesley received his full share of this 
somewhat inconvenient but noble family possession. 
When he was six years old, his father’s house was 
set on fire by the malice of some of his persecutors, and 
he was nearly involved in its destruction. The fire was 
made known to the inmates, by sparks from the burning roof 
falling upon a sleeping child in bed beneath it. With great 
difficulty, Mr. Wesley succeeded in getting his wife and eldest 
children out of the house, while the nursery maid assisted the 
younger children; but John was forgotten in the confusion, 
until his screams for help were heard from the nursery. His 
father flew to his rescue, but the stairs were on fire, and so 
much burned that they would not bear his weight. He gave 
up the child for lost, and knelt in prayer to God for his soul. 
The boy, however, finding no one coming to save him, and seeing 
the chamber and bed burning, climbed upon a chest, and from 
that to the window, where he was seen by the people outside. 
One man climbed upon the shoulders of another, and took him 
from the window at the very instant that the roof fell in. Had 
it fallen outwards, they would have all been destroyed together. 

This miraculous escape from death seems to have awakened 



JOHN WESLEY. 


345 


a peculiar interest for her son John, in the mind of his mother, 
who gave to all her children the first part of their education, 
and whose religious instruction undoubtedly exercised an im¬ 
mense influence over their after-lives. In allusion to his pre¬ 
servation and her plans respecting his tuition, she holds the 
following language in her diary. “I do intend to be more 
particularly careful of the soul of this child, that Thou hast so 
mercifully provided for, than I have ever been; that I may do 
my endeavour to instil into his mind the principles of Thy true 
religion and virtue. Lord, give me grace to do it sincerely and 
prudently, and bless my attempts with good success.” 

When he was about eight years old he began to receive the 
sacrament. At nine he had the small-pox, with four others of 
the children, and his mother writes to her husband, who hap¬ 
pened to be absent, that “ Jack has bore his disease bravely, 
like a man, and indeed like a Christian, without any complaint; 
though he seemed angry at the small-pox when they were sore, 
as we guessed by his looking sourly at them, for he never said 
any thing.” 

In 1714, he was placed at the Charter House, where he 
speedily evinced great diligence and progress in learning. He 
commenced the study of Hebrew when he was sixteen, and in 
the following year was elected to Christ Church, Oxford. To¬ 
wards the close of the year 1824, he began to reflect upon 
entering into deacon’s orders, the importance of the ministerial 
office, the motives of entering it, and the qualifications for it. 
He corresponded with great frankness and freedom with his 
parents upon the subject of his meditations, and upon the books 
he read, and their letters were such as to reward him amply 
for his affectionate confidence. In the month of September, 
1725, he was ordained deacon, by Potter, Bishop of Oxford. 

In the spring of 1726, Mr. Wesley became a candidate for 
a fellowship in Lincoln College, and obtained his election through 
the influence of Dr. Morley, the rector of the college. He had 
become a fellow of a college where he knew not one person. 
He was at the same time rid of all his old acquaintance, many 
of whom he was anxious to be freed from, and he formed a reso¬ 
lution for his government in this respect for the future, which 
he thus refers to in a sermon sixty years afterwards. He says, 
“I foresaw abundance of people would come to see me, either 
44 


346 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


out of friendship, civility, or curiosity, and that I should have 
offers of acquaintance new and old; but I had now fixed my 
plan. Entering now, as it were, into a new world, I resolved 
to have no acquaintance by chance, but by choice, and to choose 
such only as I had reason to believe would help me on my way 
to heaven. In consequence of this I narrowly observed the 
temper and behaviour of all that visited me. I saw no reason 
to think that the greater part of these truly loved or feared 
God. Such acquaintance, therefore, I did not choose: I could 
not expect they would do me any good. Therefore, when any 
of these came, I behaved as courteously as I could; but to the 
question, ‘When will you come to see me?’ I returned no 
answer. When they had come a few times and found I still 
declined returning the visit, I saw them no more. And I 
bless God this has been my invariable rule for about threescore 
years. I knew many reflections would follow; but that did not 
move me, as I knew full well it was my calling to go through 
evil report and good report.” 

Eight months after his election to a fellowship he w r as ap¬ 
pointed Greek lecturer and moderator of the classes. He was 
absent from the college for a short time, officiating for his father 
at Wooste, but a new regulation of the college summoned him 
to return. While he was away, his brother Charles, who was 
pursuing his studies at Christ Church, had associated himself 
with two or three undergraduates for the purpose of religious 
improvement, living by rule, and receiving the sacrament weekly. 
Their peculiar course speedily drew down upon them the ridicule 
of their neighbours, and one person having remarked in reference 
to their methodical manner of life, that a new sect of Methodists 
had sprung up, the name obtained vogue, and became the title 
of the great religious sect which these brothers founded. When 
John Wesley returned to Oxford, the associates placed themselves 
under his direction, and his acknowledged character and ability 
caused an accession to their numbers. The shafts of ridicule 
were launched unsparingly at them, and the reports of their 
doings reached the ears of old Mr. Wesley, who writes on the 
subject as follows:—“I hear my son John has the honour of 
being styled the Father of the Holy Club: if it be so, I am 
sure I must be the grandfather of it; and I need not say I had 
rather any of my sons should be so dignified and distinguished, 


JOHN WESLEY. 


347 


than to have the title of His Holiness.” Hervey, the famous 
author of the “ Meditations,” was a member of this little party, 
and George Whitefield was another. 

The society however diminished gradually in numbers, and 
when the Wesleys left the University, it became nearly, if not 
totally extinct. Old Mr. Wesley found himself labouring under 
a fatal illness, and a correspondence was carried on between 
him and his son John, relative to the taking charge by the 
latter of the congregation of Epworth. John determined not 
to accept it, and no reasoning could induce him to change his 
mind on this subject. His father died in May, 1735, and in 
the following month the vacant living was disposed of, so that 
John thought himself fixed at Oxford, at the very time that 
every thing was arranged for his removal to a far distant scene 
of labour. Dr. Burton introduced him to Mr. Oglethorpe, 
governor of the colony of Georgia, who requested him to remove 
to America, and engage in the conversion of the Indians. He 
consulted his friends, who generally favoured the scheme, and 
his mother, who answered, “Had I twenty sons, I should rejoice 
that they were all so employed, though I should never see them 
more.” Having consented to become a missionary, he embarked 
on the 14th of October, 1735, at Gravesend, accompanied by 
his brother Charles. On board the vessel were twenty-six 
German Moravians, whose piety and loving confidence in the 
Divine providence greatly charmed Mr. Wesley, and caused him 
to commence the study of the German language, that he might 
converse with them. On one occasion, in the midst of the 
Psalm with which their service began, the sea broke over the 
vessel, split the mainsail in pieces, covered the ship, and poured 
in between the decks, as if the great deep had already swallowed 
them up. A terrible screaming began among the English. 
The Germans calmly sung on. Mr. Wesley asked one of them 
afterwards, “Were you not afraid?” He replied, “I thank God, 
no.” He was then asked if the women and children were not 
afraid, and answered “No, our women and children are not 
afraid to die.” 

On the 6th of February, 1736, they landed near Savannah, 
and Mr. Wesley remained in the colony nearly two years, 
preaching the gospel, to use his own words, “not as he ought 
but as he was able.” He landed at Deal, on his return to 


348 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


England, on the 1st of February, 1738. Here he found that 
Mr. Whitefield had sailed the day before for Georgia, after 
having made a great impression in London and other places by 
his preaching. 

His sermons on the doctrine of the new birth and justifica¬ 
tion by faith awakened a powerful interest in the minds of all 
who heard them; and the clergy, who had determined to deny 
him their pulpits in consequence, were extremely well pleased 
when they learned that he was going to America, where the 
whole force of his enthusiasm might expand itself without dan¬ 
ger. But simultaneously with his departure, appeared Mr. 
Wesley, whose first sermon, preached upon the text, “if any 
man be in Christ he is a new creature,” was so high-strained as 
to mark its author as the successor of Whitefield, and as one 
calculated to deepen and widen the impression he had made. 
This sermon was preached on the second day after his arrival 
in London, and he was immediately informed that he was not 
to occupy that pulpit again. On the next Sunday he preached 
at St. Andrews, Holborn, and after the service received a simi¬ 
lar notice. 

Soon after, he became a pupil of Peter Boehler, a Moravian, 
whose teachings, operating through the previously formed cha¬ 
racter of the Wesleys, John and Charles, led directly to the 
foundation of the first Methodist society. On Wednesday, 
May 24, 1738, John Wesley dates his conversion to true Chris¬ 
tianity, the day of his regeneration. The two brothers Wesley, 
with a Mr. Plutchins and a Mr. Fox, and forty others, formed 
themselves into a society, which met in Fetter Lane every Wed¬ 
nesday evening, that they might enjoy free conversation, and 
build each other up in faith. The order they adopted for their 
government constitutes the basis of the whole Methodist eco¬ 
nomy, and if it had been rigidly adhered to, might have pre¬ 
vented much trouble and confusion. 

In the expectation that, by communion with the Moravian 
brethren, his faith would be still more firmly established, Mr. 
Wesley made a visit of a fortnight’s duration to their settlement 
at Herrnhut, stopping by the way at Marienborn, where Wesley 
and Zinzendorf had conversations with each other respecting 
their religious views. They by no means agreed in every thing, 
but Mr. Wesley was on the whole delighted with his visit, and 


JOHN WESLEY. 


349 


would gladly have spent his life there, but for the labour his 
Master had to be done in another part of the vineyard. 

Charles Wesley meanwhile had continued with the society at 
Fetter Lane, and it was increasing rapidly when his brother 
John returned from Germany and Mr. Whitefield from America. 
John Wesley now immediately commenced those systematic 
labours which made him the founder of the great religious body 
of Methodists. He began to exhort and to preach, often three 
or four times a day, at the prisons and other places in the me¬ 
tropolis, and made many excursions into the country, where his 
audiences were large and his followers became very numerous. 
Whitefield had commenced the practice of field-preaching, and 
invited Mr. Wesley to Bristol to join him. The invitation was 
accepted, but it soon appeared that there were some differences 
of doctrine between them, which gradually led to their estrange¬ 
ment, and a separation between the societies over which they 
presided. The strict and orderly discipline established by Mr. 
Wesley, commencing with the small division of classes, and end¬ 
ing in the annual conferences of the numerous preachers, com¬ 
bined admirably with their peculiarities of doctrine to bind the 
members together, and the societies to each other, and in the 
infancy of the sect, this was not a little aided by the persecu¬ 
tions sustained from the ministry and laymen of the established 
church. Mr. Wesley was frequently assaulted, and on several 
occasions found himself entirely in the hands of a mob, from 
whose violence his escape seems truly miraculous. Once a lusty 
man struck at him from behind several times with an oaken 
stick, with which, if he had been struck, he would have preached 
no more; but every time the blow was turned aside, although 
Mr. Wesley himself was so crowded as to be unable to move 
hand or foot. Some cried out to kill him, and the shout “ crucify 
the dog” rang in his ears like the death-knell of a martyr. 
Once he was struck on the shoulder with a brick, and at an¬ 
other time he received a similar blow between the eyes. In 
another mob he was struck two blows, one on the breast and 
another on the mouth, so that the blood gushed out. During 
all his sufferings, Mr. Wesley bore himself with the most philo¬ 
sophical fortitude and Christian patience and dignity. He ever 
imitated Him, who, when he was reviled, reviled not again; 
who, when he suffered, threatened not; and his whole temper 


350 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


and conduct were worthy of a soldier of the cross. He always 
took care to give no unnecessary offence to any one; he was 
cautious and prudent at all times, and his sufferings and those 
of his followers, taken in connection with his blameless life and 
holy teachings, drew thousands to his standard. He gave his 
followers the advice to speak no word against opinions of any 
kind; to fight not against notions, but sins. 

The approach of old age did not in the least abate the zeal 
and diligence of Mr. Wesley. He was almost perpetually tra¬ 
velling, and his religious services alone are almost incredible, 
although he added to them many literary and controversial 
labours. The last annual conference at which he presided was 
held at Bristol in the year 1790. At that time, there were in 
the connection 216 circuits, 511 preachers, and 120,233 mem¬ 
bers. All this great work had been done in fifty years, under 
the superintendence of John Wesley himself, and a great part 
of it was owing, under God, to his own personal exertions. 

In 1790, he found his eyes growing dim and his strength for¬ 
saking him. He was in his eighty-eighth year. When the 
hour of his dissolution drew near he was thoroughly sensible of 
its approach, and he met it with true Christian fortitude. He 
repeated frequently in his dying moments, “ God is with us.” 
He died without a groan on the 2d of March, 1791, with his 
friends kneeling around his bedside, in the full possession of his 
faculties. He was in the eighty-eighth year of his age, and the 
sixty-fifth of his public ministry. His excellencies far outshone 
his errors. His whole life shows him to have been honest, punc¬ 
tual, and regular, cheerful even to vivacity, and generous in a 
high degree. Some of his actions have been harshly judged, 
and he has frequently been charged with doing evil that good 
might come. No man, however, is perfect, and the friends of 
Mr. Wesley may feel satisfied with the admission of a writer 
hostile to him and the sect he founded, that perhaps not another 
man then living could have been found, who would have ac¬ 
quitted himself with greater credit to his own character, and to 
the cause in which he was engaged, than did John Wesley. 


GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 


351 


GEOEGE WHITEFIELD. 



EORGE WHITEFIELD, the famous preacher, 
was born about the close of the year 1714, at 
Gloucester, where his mother kept the Bell 
Inn. We have his own account of his infancy. 
He says he was so brutish as to hate instruct 
tion, froward, stealing from his mother’s pocket, 
and appropriating to his own use the money 
that he took in the house. Tracing himself from 
the cradle to manhood, he could see in himself 
nothing but a fitness to be damned ; and, he adds, 
“if the Almighty had not prevented me by his 
grace, I had now either been sitting in darkness 
and in the shadow of death, or condemned as the due 
reward of my crimes, to be for ever lifting up my eyes 
in torments.” Withal, he had a devout disposition 
and a tender heart, and he could recollect early mov- 
ings of that heart which satisfied him, in after-life, that “ God 
loved him with an overlasting love, and had separated him even 
from his mother’s womb, for the work to which he afterward 
was pleased to call him.” 

When he was about ten years old, his mother made a second, 
and an unhappy marriage, which led to great affliction. Amid 
their distress, his brother used to read aloud Bishop Ken’s 
manual for Winchester Scholars, which affected George so much 
that he desired to own the book. He was then attending St. 
Mary de Crypt’s school, and the corporation, at their annual 
visit, gave him some money for the speeches he was chosen to 
deliver. This was immediately expended in the purchase of 
Bishop Ken’s book: an investment which he found of great 
benefit to his soul. 

The elocutive powers of the lad were now directed toward a 
point rather distant from the pulpit. The boys at the grammar- 


352 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

school were fond of Thespian entertainments, and their master 
encouraged them, composing a dramatic piece for them himself, 
and causing them to enact it before the corporation. White- 
field was assigned a woman’s part, and made his appearance in 
girl’s clothes. The remembrance of this folly he was wont to 
say, had often covered him with confusion of face, and he hoped 
it would do so to the end of his life. Nevertheless, he owed 
much of his attractive manner in preaching, to his early attach¬ 
ment to theatrical entertainments; and while he denounced 
players and play-goers from the sacred desk, he gave, though 
unconsciously perhaps, an added force to his impassioned words, 
by oratorical graces and winning gestures transferred from the 
stage itself. 

A curious account of his boyhood, which he gave in one of 
his sermons, will show how deeply rooted was his early love of 
theatrical entertainments. “ When I was sixteen years of age,’’ 
he says, “ I began to fast twice a week for thirty-six hours 
together, prayed many times a day, received the sacrament 
every Lord’s day, fasting myself almost to death all the forty 
days of Lent, during which I made it a point of duty never to 
go less than three times a day to public worship, besides seven 
times a day to my private prayers; yet I knew no more that 
I was to be born again in God—born a new creature in Christ 
Jesus—than if I was never born at all. I had a mind to be 
upon the stage, but then I had’ a qualm of conscience; I used 
to ask people, 4 Pray, can I be a player, and yet go to the sa¬ 
crament, and be a Christian ?’ 4 Oh!’ said they, 4 such a one, 

who is a player, goes to the sacrament; though, according to 
the law of the land, no players should receive the sacrament, 
unless they give proof that they repent; this was Archbishop 
Tillotson’s doctrine.’ 4 Well, then, if that be the case,’ said I, 
4 1 will be a player.’ And I thought to act my part for the 
devil as well as anybody; but, blessed be God, he stopped me 
in my journey.” 

Before he was fifteen, he persuaded his mother to take him 
from school, because she could not send him to the university, 
and to have more learning would spoil him for a tradesman. 
So, he left school, and came to assist her in the pttblic house, 
4< clad in blue apron and snuffers, a professed and common 
drawer.” In the leisure time afforded by these employments* 


GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 


353 


he composed two or three sermons, and pored over Thomas 
si Kempis. A year passed in this employment, when the inn 
was made over to a married brother. George could not agree 
with his sister-in-law, so he soon left her house, went to live 
in his mother’s humble home, till Providence should point out 
some course for him to follow. The example of an acquaint¬ 
ance pointed out a servitorship in college, and a vigorous effort 
on the part of his friends resulted in his admission to Oxford 
in that capacity, at the age of eighteen. His business at the 
inn had accustomed him to waiting on others, and reconciled 
him to any feelings of degradation he might otherwise have 
entertained about it, and in consequence he was found ex¬ 
tremely useful by the students, who gave him a preference over 
others. He was thus enabled to live three years at college, 
without being beholden to his friends for more than four and 
twenty pounds. 

His room mates were addicted to riotous living, and for a 
considerable time tried to force him to join them. He could 
pnly escape from them, by sitting alone in his study, where the 
cold benumbed him. When they found that he could not be 
induced to comply with their requests, their persecutions gave 
place to feelings of respect for his strong character, and he 
was allowed to do as he pleased. Before he went to Oxford, 
he had heard of the young men there, who lived « by rule and 
method,” and were therefore called Methodists, and very gene¬ 
rally despised. He, however, felt himself drawn toward them, 
and when he heard them reviled, defended them strenuously. 
Seeing them going to receive the sacrament at St. Mary’s in 
the midst of a ridiculing crowd, he was strongly minded to fol¬ 
low them, and for more than a year he yearned after fellowship 
with them, but was kept back by a sense of inferior condition. 
At length, a pauper committed suicide, and Whitefield sent a 
woman to Charles Wesley, to request him to come and minister 
spiritual medicine to the sufferer. She was charged not to say 
who sent her, but she disobeyed and told his name, and Wesley, 
who had heard of him before, invited him to breakfast next 
morning. An introduction to the little band followed, and 
Whitefield also began to live by rule,, and to pick up the very 
fragments of his time, that not a moment of it might be lost. 
At this time, also, Charles Wesley put into his hands a volume, 
45 2 o 2 


354 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


entitled, the “Life of God in the Soul of Man,” whereby, says 
Whitefield, “ God showed me that I must be born again, or be 
damned.” 

He continued at Oxford, after the Wesleys had gone to Ame¬ 
rica, until his great devotional excesses, if they may be so 
called, broke down his health, and laid him upon a bed of long 
and wearisome sickness. He was obliged to go to the country 
to recruit his strength, as soon as he was able to leave his bed, 
and there he attracted the notice of Dr. Benson, Bishop of 
Gloucester, who sent for him, and voluntarily offered him ordi¬ 
nation, whenever he should choose to accept it. Whitefield felt 
a praiseworthy fear and hesitancy about undertaking this sacred 
office, but the encouragement of the bishop and the persuasions 
of his friends determined him, and he was ordained in such a 
spirit, that he thought he could call heaven and earth to wit¬ 
ness, that when the bishop laid his hand upon him, he gave him¬ 
self up to be a martyr for Him who had hung upon the cross 
for him. His whole subsequent life proves his sincerity. 

He had one sermon, and five guineas which the good bishop 
gave him, at the commencement of his career. He loaned his 
sermon to a neighbouring clergyman, to convince him how unfit 
he was for preaching. The clergyman divided it into two, 
preached it morning and evening to his congregation, and re¬ 
turned it with a guinea for its use. Encouraged by this, White- 
field appeared with this same sermon in the pulpit of the church 
of St. Mary de Crypt, where he had been baptized, and where 
he had first received the sacrament. Curiosity brought toge¬ 
ther a large congregation, and the youthful minister, kindling 
with a sense of the Divine presence as he went on, spake with 
a degree of gospel authority which astonished his audience. A 
few mocked him, but the great majority were sensibly impressed, 
and complaint was made to the bishop, that fifteen persons had 
been driven mad by the sermon. The worthy prelate hoped 
they would not forget their madness before the next Sabbath. 

Going back to Oxford, he took his degree, and employed 
himself in visiting the prisons, and the charity schools esta¬ 
blished by the Methodists. He was soon summoned to officiate 
at the Tower Chapel in London, during the absence of the 
curate, and though the congregation seemed disposed to sneer 
at him when he first entered the pulpit, they grew serious at 


GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 


355 


his discourse, and during the two months he continued to offi¬ 
ciate in London, people came from all parts of the city to hear 
him, and the chapel was crowded whenever he preached. He 
returned to Oxford again, where the society grew under his 
care. After a while, Mr. Kinchin, the minister of Dummer, 
in Hampshire, wishing to come to Oxford to be a candidate for 
dean of Corpus Christi college, invited Whitefield to take charge 
of his parish during his absence. He found the people poor 
and illiterate, and felt at first like mourning for the loss of his 
Oxford friends, but when he came to engage in the same round 
of duties that Mr. Kinchin had followed, and thus learned how 
zealous he had been, and how his congregation had been trained, 
he found his time fully occupied, and he learned to love those 
he laboured for, and derived a greater improvement from their 
society than books could have given him. 

When Mr. Kinchin was elected dean, Mr. Hervey was ready 
to take his place in the curacy, and Whitefield, relieved of the 
charge, felt the heart-yearning he had long had of assisting the 
Wesleys in Georgia, ripen into a purpose of going thither. At 
Gloucester, he bade his friends farewell, and received the bless¬ 
ing of the good bishop. Thence he went to Bristol, where he 
was received in high honour. The mayor appointed him to 
preach before the corporation. Quakers, Baptists, Presbyterians, 
all denominations, flocked to hear him, and the church was 
crowded on week-days, while on the Sabbath day multitudes were 
disappointed of hearing him for want of room. At London he 
was accepted by General Oglethorpe and the trustees of the 
colony, and presented to the Bishop of London and the primate. 
The vessel in which he was to sail, being likely to be detained 
for some months, he went to serve the church of a friend at 
Stonehouse, in his native county; thence he went to Bristol 
again, where multitudes came out of the city, on foot and in 
coaches, to meet him, and blessed him as he passed along the 
street. He preached five times a week to such congregations 
that he could hardly make his way along the crowded aisles to 
the desk. Some hung upon the rails of the organ loft, others 
climbed upon the leads of the church, and altogether made the 
church so hot with their breath, that the steam would fall from 
the pillars like drops of rain. When he preached his farewell 
sermon, and said to the people that perhaps they would see 


856 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


his face no more, high and low, young and old, burst into 
tears. He left Bristol in the middle of the night, to avoid 
the ceremony of an escort by horsemen and coaches out of the 
city. To London, whither he went, the popular regard followed 
him. When he administered the sacrament, fresh elements had 
to be consecrated two or three times. The churches were opened 
on week-days, and constables stood at the doors to prevent too 
great multitudes from forcing their way into the building. On 
Sunday mornings, in the latter months of the year, the streets 
were filled with people with lanterns, going to secure a place to 
hear him. The nearer the time of his departure arrived, the 
more intense these feelings became. They stopped him in the 
aisles and embraced him; they waited on him at his lodgings, 
entreating him to write their names with his own hand, and 
begging other mementos of him, and when he preached his fare¬ 
well sermon the whole audience was in tears. He resided three 
months in America, discharging his duty with fervour and plain¬ 
ness, happy in his exile, and contented to remain there. He 
was obliged, however, to return to England to receive priest’s 
orders, and to collect contributions for founding and supporting 
an orphan house in the colony. His return voyage lasted nine 
w r eeks and three days. They had been long on short allowance, 
exhausted their last cask of water, and were in the extremes 
of distress and bewilderment, when the vessel made Limerick 
harbour. Whitefield came at once to London, waited on the 
bishop and primate, who received him favourably, and highly 
approved his designs respecting his charge in Georgia, hoping 
thus to fix him in America, where his enthusiasm could not in¬ 
terfere with their ease. The trustees presented him with the 
living of Savannah, and the good Bishop Benson, who had or¬ 
dained him deacon, now introduced him into priest’s orders. 
The business of raising money for the orphan house, however, 
detained him in England,' and he resumed the labours which 
had been broken off by his departure for America. His popu¬ 
larity was as great as ever. One day, preaching at Bermondsey 
church, he knew that nearly one thousand people stood outside, 
unable to obtain admittance, and he felt a strong inclination to 
go out and preach from the tombstones. This inclination led to 
a determination to adopt the system of preaching in the fields, 
and it was soon commenced in Kingswood, near Bristol, a tract 


GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 


357 


of country so abounding in low and degraded beings, principally 
colliers, in the most abject state of poverty and brutality, that 
when Whitefield first announced his intention of going to America 
to convert the Indians, many of his friends said, “What need 
of going abroad for this ? Have we not Indians enough at 
home ? If you have a mind to convert Indians, there are col¬ 
liers enough in Kingswood.” To these benighted souls he had 
long yearned to open the light of heavenly truth, and they had 
no churches. He came among them and preached one day 
without notice. His audience then numbered about two hun¬ 
dred. The second time he preached, two thousand persons had 
assembled to hear him, the third audience numbered between 
four and five thousand, and they went on increasing until they 
were estimated at more than twenty thousand. Meanwhile the 
clerical authorities had taken offence at him, and would no longer 
permit him to preach in the churches, so that what he had 
adopted of choice, was now become a matter of necessity. 
“The sun,” says Whitefield, alluding to one of these meetings, 
“shone very bright, and the people standing in such an awful 
manner around the mount in the profoundest silence, filled me 
with a holy admiration.” On another occasion, « The trees and 
hedges were full. All was hushed when I began; the sun shone 
bright, and God enabled me to preach for an hour with great 
power, and so loud, that all, I was told, could hear me. Blessed 
be God, Mr. -spoke right; the fire is kindled in the coun¬ 

try r.” The silence of these motley multitudes proved the power 
of the preacher over them, and gave him increased confidence, 
but when he saw the white gutters made by the tears that fell 
plentifully down their black cheeks, black as they came out of 
the coal pits, his thankful heart was full; gratitude overcame 
him. 

Feeling the necessity of preparing for his return to America, 
Whitefield sent for John Wesley and invited him to continue the 
system begun at Bristol. Wesley, after some hesitancy, con¬ 
sented, and Whitefield came to London, where he attacked Sa¬ 
tan in his stronghold, by preaching in the open air in the suburbs 
of Moorfields, then the great resort of the idle, the dissolute, 
the profligate, and the criminal. The same success attended his 
preaching here as elsewhere, and many souls were reclaimed 
from their evil ways. Amid all his success, Whitefield never 



358 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


forgot that he was the pastor of a little parish in Georgia, and 
the raising of money to build an orphan house there, the prin¬ 
cipal business he had in England. This was so far accomplished, 
that he was able to set sail for America on the 14th of August, 
1739. He arrived in Philadelphia early in November of that 
year, and was at once invited to preach in the churches. But 
no church could hold the crowds that assembled to hear him; so 
he chose the gallery of the little court-house for a pulpit, and 
his audiences stood around in the open space in front. Leav¬ 
ing Philadelphia, he preached a while in New York, and 
then went south to Savannah, preaching continually, wherever 
he came, with the most happy effect. He arrived at Sa¬ 
vannah, in January, 1740, and on the 25th of March he laid 
the foundation of his orphan house, which he called Be- 
thesda, the House of Mercy. He then set forth on a journey 
of solicitation, and came by sea to Philadelphia, where a paper 
of the day states, that he preached to an audience of fifteen 
thousand persons on a Sabbath, and gives appointments for his 
preaching in all the towns near that city. He returned to 
Georgia again before he went to New England, having collected 
in Pennsylvania and the neighbouring provinces about four 
hundred and fifty pounds for his orphans in Georgia. On his 
return he became involved in a controversy with Mr. Garden, 
the rector of St. Philip’s church, at Charleston, who was the 
commissary or deputy of the Bishop of London for South 
Carolina. The dispute was carried on with great violence by 
Mr. Garden, who preached a sermon, when Whitefield was one 
of his hearers, in which he drew a parallel between him and all 
the Oliverians, Banters, Quakers, French Prophets, till he came 
down to a family of Dutartes, who had lived some years before 
in South Carolina, and were guilty of the most notorious incests 
and murders. “ Had some infernal spirit been sent to draw my 
picture,” says Whitefield, “I think it scarcely possible that he 
could paint me in more horrid colours. I think, if ever, then was 
the time that all manner of evil was spoken falsely against me for 
Christ’s sake.” Whitefield was summoned to appear before the 
commissary, as the head of an ecclesiastical tribunal, to answer 
certain articles, “to be objected and ministered unto him con¬ 
cerning the mere health of his soul, and the reformation and 
correction of his manners and excesses.” He appeared on the 
day named, and the first court of this kind ever held in America 


GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 


359 


commenced its proceedings. After committing several blunders 
on both sides, by way of showing their ignorance of the business, 
the court adjourned till nine o’clock next morning, to give Mr. 
Whitefield time to inform himself of the extent of the jurisdic¬ 
tion of the bishop and his commissary. How intently he 
studied the subject may be imagined from the fact that he 
preached twice during the remainder of the day. On the fol¬ 
lowing morning Mr. Graham appeared as prosecuting attorney, 
and Mr. Rutledge as counsel for the respondent. Whitefield 
made some mistakes, but hints from his quick-sighted counsel, 
and his own adroitness, saved him from their consequences. 
Once his indignation broke forth, and he read the court a severe 
lecture on their meanness in catching at a word as soon as it 
was out of his mouth, without allowing him time to correct it. 
He filed an objection to be judged by the commissary, who, he 
alleged was prejudiced against him. New questions arose upon 
this, and the court adjourned until the following morning. 
Whitefield went to James’s Island, read prayers and preached. 
In court next day, he found that his exceptions were overruled, 
and then he appealed to the High Court of Chancery in Lon¬ 
don, declaring all further proceedings at Charleston to be null 
and void; and then he read letters which refreshed his spirit, 
by informing him “ how mightily the word of God grew and 
prevailed” at Philadelphia, and that Mr. Bolton, in Georgia, 
had near fifty negroes learning to read. The appeal was never 
tried. The dignitaries in London seemed to think it a profit¬ 
less business, and contrived to let it die of neglect. 

In the fall of this year he was engaged labouring in New 
England, preaching everywhere with success, particularly at 
Boston, and in the colleges at Cambridge and New Haven. Re¬ 
turning to New York and Philadelphia, he sailed from the Del¬ 
aware to Charleston, and reached Savannah on the 20th of 
December. On his way back, he thus sums up his labours. 
« It is the seventy-fifth day since I arrived at Rhode Island. 
My body was then weak, but the Lord has much renewed its 
strength. I have been enabled to preach one hundred and 
seventy-five times in public, besides exhorting very frequently 
in private. I have travelled upwards of eight hundred miles, 
and gotten upwards of seven hundred pounds sterling in goods, 
provisions, and money for my poor orphans. Ha ving arranged 
the affairs of the orphan house, he preached a farewell sermon, 


360 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


and left Savannah for the purpose of embarking for England. 
On the twenty-fourth of January, 1741, he crossed Charleston 
bar, on the eleventh of March, arrived at Falmouth, whence he 
rode post to London, and on the next Sabbath preached on Ken- 
nington Common. 

Before sailing to America, he had become impressed with 
Calvinistic views, which had brought about a partial separation 
between him and Mr. Wesley, and subsequent occurrences tended 
to widen the breach. Whitefield had besought Wesley not to 
preach against election, as he, though he believed it, would not 
preach in favour of it, that they might not become divided 
among themselves. Wesley had recourse to sortilege, and the 
lot he drew was, ‘‘preach and print.” He preached at once, 
but did not print till after the departure of Whitefield, who 
answered his publication by a letter from Bethesda, in Georgia. 
This reply was written in very bad taste, and its publication 
made its author many enemies. The Wesleys, by their power¬ 
ful preaching and incessant exertions brought nearly the whole 
body of the Methodists over to their views, and this, with two 
ill-judged attacks made by Whitefield on England’s greatest 
favourites—“The Whole Duty of Man” and Archbishop Tillot- 
son—left Whitefield nearly destitute of the popularity he had 
previously acquired. His whole work was to begin again, and he 
commenced it immediately, preaching at first to one or two hun¬ 
dred persons, but still preaching until his audiences were scarcely 
less numerous than formerly. At the invitation of some of his 
friends in Scotland, he went to Edinburgh, and thence to many 
places in that kingdom, preaching the gospel, without allying 
himself to any sect or clique, and always with power, commenc¬ 
ing a revival, which was continued by zealous labourers after 
his departure with the most happy results. 

Leaving Edinburgh in October, he passed into Wales, where 
he was married, and thence to London, where he arrived early 
in December, 1741. Whitefield had previously determined to 
enter the married state in America, and wrote to the parents 
of the lady he was disposed to choose a characteristic letter, 
enclosing one to herself, in which she was invited to partake of 
a way of life which nothing but devotion and enthusiasm like 
his could render endurable. He said that he much liked the 
manner of Isaac’s marriage with Rebecca; and thought no mar- 


GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 


361 


riage could succeed well unless both parties were like-minded 
with Tobias and bis wife. In conclusion, he requested that if 
she thought marriage would be prejudicial to her better part, 
to be so kind as to send him a denial. In reply, he was informed 
that she was in a seeking state only; and surely, he said, that 
would not do ; he must have one full of faith and the Holy 
Ghost. Such a wife he thought he had now discovered in a 
widow, named James, at Abergavenny, who was between thirty 
and forty; neither rich nor beautiful, but having once been gay, 
was now a despised follower of the Lamb. His marriage, how¬ 
ever, was unhappy, and the interference of others so increased 
his domestic difficulties, that one of his friends says that the 
death of his wife “set his mind much at liberty.” 

His popularity, meanwhile, increased steadily, and he was 
bold enough to attack Satan in his stronghold by preaching in 
Moorfields during the Whitsun-holidays. It was a pitched bat¬ 
tle, and lasted until night. Whitefield displayed great general¬ 
ship. He began at six in the morning, when some ten thousand 
people were assembled, waiting for the sports to commence. He 
was attended by a guard of praying people, and when he began 
the crowd flocked around his pulpit. Thus he had for once got 
the start of the devil, and he maintained his advantage all day, 
preaching three times, in spite of drummers, trumpeters, merry- 
andrews, puppet-show men, players, keepers of wild beasts, and 
their friends. Stones, dirt, rotten eggs, and pieces of dead cats 
and other animals were frequently thrown at him, and a recruit¬ 
ing sergeant marched his men through the midst of the audi¬ 
ence in the hope of making a disturbance. Whitefield requested 
his people to fall back and make way for the king’s officers, and 
then close up again. This manoeuvre baffled the enemy. An¬ 
other part of the preacher’s tactics was very effective. His 
voice was like a trumpet, but sometimes the uproar became so 
great that he could not be heard, and then he called the pray¬ 
ing people to his aid, and they all began singing; and so singing, 
and praying, and preaching, he kept the field. In this strange 
warfare he produced a very great impression. More than a 
thousand notes were handed up to him by persons who were 
“brought under concern” by his preaching that day, and three 
hundred and fifty persons joined his congregation. On the 
next day he fought a similar battle with Satan in Mary-le-bone 
46 2 H 


362 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

fields, a place of similar resort. On the third day he returned 
to Moorfields and preached, if possible, with greater effect than 
on the first. 

His regular place of preaching was at the Tabernacle, a build¬ 
ing so called from its temporary nature, erected soon after his 
separation from Wesley by his friends. Here he was assisted 
by Cennick and others, and the patronage and zeal of Selina, 
Countess of Huntingdon, made Calvinistic Methodism to be 
imbodied into a separate sect. She made Whitefield her chap¬ 
lain, and he induced her to become, what she was well-fitted to 
be, the head of the church he was founding. She built chapels 
in many places, and employed Calvinistic clergymen to officiate 
in them, and at length set up a seminary for educating such at 
Trevecca, in South Wales. These chapels were called Lady 
Huntingdon’s chapels; the preachers Lady Huntingdon’s preach¬ 
ers ; and the college Lady Huntingdon’s college. To crown the 
whole, the Calvinistic Methodists went by the name of Lady 
Huntingdon’s connection. 

In 1762, Whitefield went again to Scotland, and with the 
able and willing co-labourers there, he set the country in a state 
of excitement such as the cool-blooded inhabitants had never 
dreamed of. “ Besides Edinburgh and Glasgow,” says Gillies, 
“it is really wonderful to think how many places in the west 
of Scotland he visited within a few weeks, preaching at every 
one of them.” In November he was again at London. 

During all this time, Whitefield had continued to correspond 
with the Wesleys, and they occasionally preached in each other’s 
pulpits. Each did justice to what he knew was good and noble 
in the character of the other, and there was a rivalry between 
them in forgiving injuries committed in hot blood, and in oppo¬ 
sition to the promptings of the true heart within. When White- 
field returned from America to England, for the last time, 
Wesley visited him, October, 1765, and gives an account of the 
interview in his journal. 

“I breakfasted,” he observes, “with Mr. Whitefield, who 
seemed to be an old, old man, being fairly worn out in his Mas¬ 
ter’s service, though he has hardly seen fifty years. And yet 
it pleases God, that I, who am now in my sixty-third year, find 
no disorder, no weakness, no decay, no difference from what I 
was at five and twenty: only that I have fewer teeth, and more 


GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 


363 


gray hairs!” Soon after, he adds, “Mr. Whitefield called upon 
me; he breathes nothing but peace and love. Bigotry cannot 
stand before him, but hides its head wherever he comes.” 

The history of Mr. Whitefield’s labours is unparalleled. They 
continued till his death, and were always effective. He made 
many opponents, and these often convicted him of gross errors; 
but he thanked them so earnestly when they showed him his 
faults, acknowledged them, and endeavoured to avoid them in 
the future with so much success, that those most embittered 
against him learned to respect and love him. 

His death took place at Newbury port, while on a visit to 
New England, in 1770. He wished for a sudden death, and 
his desire was in some degree vouchsafed to him. His illness 
was but of few hours’ duration. When he was first seized with 
it, one of his friends expressed a wish that he would not preach 
so often. He answered that he had rather wear out than rust 
out. He was buried in the Presbyterian church in Newburyport, 
before the pulpit. Every mark of respect was shown to his 
remains. All the bells in town tolled, and the ships in the har¬ 
bour fired mourning guns, and hung their flags at half mast. 
In Georgia, all the black cloth in the stores was bought up, and 
the church was hung in black; the governor and the council 
met at the state-house in deep mourning, and went in a proces¬ 
sion to hear a funeral sermon. Funeral sermons were preached 
in all the tabernacles in England, and John Wesley preached 
several of them, wishing he said to show all possible respect to 
the memory of so great and so good a man. Of the sects which 
were benefited by his labours, the Presbyterians in America 
undoubtedly reaped the greatest advantages, if indeed their 
whole success is not to be attributed to his agency. But who 
shall attempt to estimate the number of those who were awakened 
by his burning words to a sense of their religious wants, and 
encouraged by him to come to Him, who gives us our daily bread, 
to have them supplied. 

Scores of men, who have since become shining lights in the 
Lord’s ministry on earth, date their first religious impressions 
at the time of hearing Whitefield, and the name of those who 
have blessed his memory as they felt the benefits of a religious 
faith in the hour of death, is legion. 


364 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


CHRISTIAN SCHWARTZ. 



UMEROUS able and good men have devoted 
themselves to the cause of missions, and none 
with more distinguished success than he who 
has been called the Apostle of the East, Chris¬ 
tian Schwartz. The saying of an eminent 
missionary, who preached to a far different 
people, the stern and high-minded Indians of 
North America, is exemplified in his life,— 
“ Prayer and pains, through faith, will do any 
thing.” For years Schwartz laboured in obscu¬ 
rity, with few scattered and broken rays of en¬ 
couragement to cheer his way. But his patience, tiis 
integrity, his unwearied benevolence, his sincerity 
and unblemished purity of life, won a hearing for his 
words of doctrine; and he was rewarded at last by a 
more extended empire in the hearts of the Hindoos, 
both heathen and convert, than perhaps any other European 
has obtained. 

Christian Frederic Schwartz was born at Sonnenburg, in the 
New Mark, Germany, October 26, 1726. His mother died 
while he was very young, and, in dying, devoted the child, in 
the presence of her husband and her spiritual guide, to the ser¬ 
vice of God, exacting from both of them a promise that they 
would use every means for the accomplishment of this, her last 
and earnest wish. Schwartz received his education at the 
schools of Sonnenburg and Custrin. He grew up a serious and 
well-disposed boy, much under the influence of religious im¬ 
pressions; and a train of fortunate circumstances deepened 
those impressions, at a time when the vivacity of youth, and the 
excitement of secular pursuits, had nearly withdrawn him from 
the career to which he was dedicated. When about twenty 
years of age he entered the University of Halle, where he ob- 



CHRISTIAN SCHWARTZ. 


365 


tained the friendship of one of the professors, Herman Francke, 
a warm and generous supporter of the missionary cause. While 
resident at Halle, Schwartz, together with another student, was 
appointed to learn the Tamul or Malabar language, in order to 
superintend the printing of a Bible in that tongue. His labour 
was not thrown away, though the proposed edition never was 
completed; for it led Francke to propose to him that he should 
go out to India as a missionary. The suggestion suited his ar¬ 
dent and laborious character, and was at once accepted. The 
appointed scene of his labours was Tranquebar, on the Coro¬ 
mandel coast, the seat of a Danish mission; and, after repair¬ 
ing to Copenhagen for ordination, he embarked from London 
for India, January 21, 1750, and reached Tranquebar in July. 

It is seldom that the life of one employed in advocating the 
faith of Christ presents much of adventure, except from the 
fiery trials of persecution; or much of interest, except to those 
who will enter into the missionary’s chief joy or sorrow, the 
success or inefficiency of his preaching. From persecution 
Schwartz’s whole life was free; his difficulties did not proceed 
from bigoted or interested zeal, but from the apathetic subtlety 
of his Hindoo hearers, ready to listen, slow to be convinced, 
enjoying the mental sword-play of hearing, and answering, and 
being confuted, and renewing the same or similar objections at 
the next meeting, as if the preacher’s former labours had not 
been. The latter part of his life was possessed of active in¬ 
terest ; for he was no stranger to the court or the camp; and 
his known probity and truthfulness won for him the confidence 
of three most dissimilar parties, a suspicious tyrant, an op¬ 
pressed people, and the martial and diplomatic directors of the 
British empire in India. But the early years of his abode in 
India possess interest neither from the marked success of his 
preaching, nor from his commerce with the busy scenes of con¬ 
quest and negotiation. For sixteen years he resided chiefly at 
Tranquebar, a member of the mission to which he was first 
attached; but at the end of that time, in 1766, he transferred 
his services to the Society for promoting Christian Knowledge, 
with which he acted until death, and to which the care of the 
Danish mission at Tranquebar was soon after transferred. He 
had already, in 1765, established a church and school at Trit- 
chinopoly, and in that town he now took up his abode, holding 

2 h 2 


366 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


the office of chaplain to the garrison, for which he received a sa¬ 
lary of £100 yearly. This entire sum he devoted to the ser¬ 
vice of the mission. 

For several years Schwartz resided principally at Tritchino- 
poly, visiting other places, from time to time, especially Tan- 
jore, where his labours ultimately had no small effect. He was 
heard with attention; he was everywhere received with respect; 
for the Hindoos could not but admire the beauty of his life, 
though it failed to win souls to his preaching. “ The fruit,” he 
said, “will perhaps appear when I am at rest.” He had, how¬ 
ever the pleasure of seeing some portion of it ripen, for in 
more than one place a small congregation grew gradually up 
under his care. His toil was lightened and cheered in 1777, 
when another missionary was sent to his assistance from Tran- 
quebar. Already he had derived help from some of his more 
advanced converts, who acted as catechists, for the instruction 
of others. He was sedulous in preparing these men for their 
important duty. “ The catechists,” he says, “ require to be 
daily admonished and stirred up, otherwise they fall into indo¬ 
lence and impurity.” Accordingly he daily assembled all those 
whose nearness permitted this frequency of intercourse; he 
taught them to explain the doctrines of their religion; he di¬ 
rected their labours for the day, and he received a report of 
those labours in the evening. 

His visits to Tanjore became more frequent, and he obtained 
the confidence of the Rajah, or native prince, Tulia Maha, who 
ruled that city under the protection of the British. In 1779, 
Schwartz procured permission from him to erect a church in his 
capital, and, with the sanction of the Madras government, set 
immediately to work on this task. His funds failing, he applied 
at Madras for further aid; but, in reply, he was summoned to 
the seat of government with all speed, and requested to act as 
an ambassador, to treat with Hyder Ally for the continuance 
of peace. It has been said that Schwartz engaged more deeply 
than became his calling in the secular affairs of India. The 
best apology for his interference, if apology be needful, is con¬ 
tained in his own account:—“ The novelty of the proposal sur¬ 
prised me at first: I begged some time to consider of it. At 
last I accepted of the offer, because by so doing I hoped to 
prevent evil, and to promote the welfare of the country.” The 


CHRISTIAN SCHWARTZ. 


367 


reason for sending him is at least too honourable to him to be 
omitted: it was the requisition of Hyder himself. « Do not 
send to me,” he said, “any of your agents; for I do not trust 
their words or treaties: but if you wish me to listen to your 
proposals, send to me the missionary of whose character I hear 
so much from every one; him I will receive and trust.” 

In his character of an envoy, Schwartz succeeded admirably. 
He conciliated the crafty, suspicious, and unfeeling despot, with¬ 
out compromising the dignity of those whom he represented, or 
forgetting the meekness of his calling. He would gladly have 
rendered his visit to Seringapatam available to higher than tem¬ 
poral interests: but here he met with little encouragement. 
Indifferent to all religion, Ilyder suffered the preacher to speak 
to him of mercy and of judgment; but in these things his heart 
had no part. Some few converts Schwartz made during his 
abode of three months; but on the whole he met with little suc¬ 
cess. He parted with Hyder upon good terms, and returned 
with joy to Tanjore. The peace, however, was of no long con¬ 
tinuance ; and Schwartz complained that the British govern¬ 
ment were guilty of the infraction. Hyder invaded the Car¬ 
natic, wasting it with fire and sword; and the frightened inha¬ 
bitants flocked for relief and protection to the towns. Tanjore 
and Tritchinopoly were filled with famishing multitudes. Dur¬ 
ing the years 1781, 2, and 3, this misery continued. At Tan¬ 
jore, especially, the scene was dreadful. Numbers perished in 
the streets, of want and disease ; corpses lay unburied, because 
the survivors had not energy or strength to inter them; the 
bonds of affection were so broken that parents offered their chil¬ 
dren for sale; and the garrison, though less afflicted than the 
native population, were enfeebled and depressed by want, and 
threatened by a powerful army without the walls. There were 
provisions in the country; but the cultivators, frightened and 
alienated by the customary exactions and ill-usage, refused to 
bring it to the fort. They would trust neither the British au¬ 
thorities nor the Rajalj^: all confidence was destroyed. “At 
last the Rajah said to one of our principal gentlemen, ‘We all, 
you and I, have lost our credit: let us try whether the inhabit¬ 
ants will trust Mr. Schwartz.’ Accordingly, he sent me a blank 
paper, empowering me to make a proper agreement with the 
people. Here was no time for hesitation. The Sepoys fell 


368 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


down as dead people, being emaciated with hunger; our streets 
were lined with dead corpses every morning—our condition was 
deplorable. I sent, therefore, letters everywhere round about, 
promising to pay any one with my own hands, and to pay them 
for any bullock which might be taken by the enemy. In one 
or two days I got above a thousand bullocks; and sent one of 
our catechists, and other Christians, into the country. They 
went at the risk of their lives, made all possible haste, and 
brought into the fort, in a very short time, 80,000 kalams of 
grain. By this means the fort was saved. When all was 
over, I paid the people, even with some money which belonged 
to others, made them a small present, and sent them home.” 

The letter from which this passage is extracted was written 
to the Society for promoting Christian Knowledge, in conse¬ 
quence of an attack made by a member of parliament upon the 
character of the Hindoo converts, and depreciation of the 
labours of the missionaries. To boast was not in Schwartz’s 
nature; but he was not deterred by a false modesty from vin¬ 
dicating his own reputation, when it was expedient for his Mas¬ 
ter’s service: and there has seldom been a more striking tribute 
paid to virtue, unassisted by power, than in the conduct of the 
Hindoos, as told in this simple statement. His labours did not 
cease with this crisis, nor with his personal exertions. He 
bought a quantity of rice at his own expense, and prevailed on 
some European merchants to furnish him with a monthly sup¬ 
ply ; by means of which he preserved many persons from pe¬ 
rishing. In 1784, he was again employed by the Company on a 
mission to Tippoo Saib; but the son of Ilyder refused to receive 
him. About this period his health, hitherto robust, began to 
fail; and in a letter, dated July, 1784, he speaks of the ap¬ 
proach of death, of his comfort in the prospect, and firm belief 
in the doctrines which he preached. In the same year the in¬ 
crease of his congregation rendered it necessary to build a 
Malabar church in the suburbs of Tanjore, which was done 
chiefly at his own expense. In February, 1785, he engaged in 
a scheme for raising English schools throughout the country, to 
facilitate the intercourse of the natives with Europeans. Schools 
were accordingly established at Tanjore and three other places. 
The pupils were chiefly children of the upper classes—of Bra- 
mins and merchants; and the good faith with which Schwartz 


CHRISTIAN SCHWARTZ. 


369 


conducted these establishments deserves to be praised as well 
as his religious zeal. « Their intention, doubtless, is to learn 
the English language, with a view to their temporal welfare; 
but they thereby become better acquainted with good princi¬ 
ples. No deceitful methods are used to bring them over to the 
doctrines of Christ, though the most earnest wishes are felt that 
they may attain that knowledge which is life eternal.” In a 
temporal view, these establishments proved very serviceable to 
many of the pupils: but, contrary to Schwartz’s hopes and 
wishes, not one of the young men became a missionary. 

In January, 1787, Schwartz’s friend, the Rajah of Tanjore, 
lay at the point of death. Being childless, he had adopted a 
boy, yet in his minority, as his successor; a practice recognised 
by the Hindoo law. His brother, Ameer Sing, however, was 
supported by a strong British party, and it was not likely that 
he would submit quietly to his exclusion from the throne. In 
this strait Tulia Maha sent for Schwartz, as the only person to 
whom he could intrust his adopted son. “This,” he said, “is 
not my, but your son; into your hands I deliver the child.” 
Schwartz accepted the charge with reluctance : he represented 
his inability to protect the orphan, and suggested that Ameer 
Sing should be named regent and guardian. The advice pro¬ 
bably was the best that could be given: but the regent proved 
false, or at least doubtful in his trust; and the charge proved a 
source of trouble and anxiety. But by Schwartz’s care and 
influence with the Company, the young prince was reared to 
manhood, and established in possession of his inheritance. Nor 
were Schwartz’s pains unsuccessful in the cultivation of his 
young pupil’s mind, who is characterized by Heber as an “ ex¬ 
traordinary man.” He repaid these fatherly cares with a filial 
affection, and long after the death of Schwartz testified, both by 
word and deed, his regard for his memory. 

We find little to relate during the latter part of Schwartz’s 
life, though much might be written, but that the limits of this 
work forbid us to dilate upon a single biography. His efforts 
were unceasing to promote the good, temporal as well as spiri¬ 
tual, of the Indian population. On one occasion he was re¬ 
quested to inspect the water-courses by which the arid lands of 
the Carnatic are irrigated; and his labours were rewarded by a 
great increase in the annual produce. Once the inhabitants of 
47 


370 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


the Tanjore country had been so grievously oppressed, that they 
abandoned their farms, and fled the country. The cultivation 
which should have begun in June, was not commenced even at 
the beginning of September, and all began to apprehend a fa¬ 
mine. Schwartz says in the letter which we have already quoted, 
“ I entreated the Rajah to remove that shameful oppression, 
and to recall the inhabitants. He sent them word that justice 
should be done to them, but they disbelieved his promises. He 
then desired me to write to them, and to assure them that he, 
at my intercession, would show kindness to them. I did so. 
All immediately returned: and first of all the Collaries be¬ 
lieved my word, so that 7000 men came back in one day. The 
rest of the inhabitants followed their example. When I ex¬ 
horted them to exert themselves to the utmost, because the time 
for cultivation was almost lost, they replied in the following 
manner:—<As you have showed kindness to us, you shall not 
have reason to repent of it: we intend to work night and day 
to show our regard for you.’ ” 

His preaching was rewarded by a slow, but a progressive 
effect; and the number of missionaries being increased by the 
Society in England, the growth of the good seed, which he had 
sown during a residence of forty years, became more rapid and 
perceptible. In the country villages numerous congregations 
were formed, and preachers were established at Cuddalore, 
Vepery, Negapatam, and Palamcotta, as well as at the earlier 
stations of Tranquebar, Tritchinopoly, and Tanjore, whose chief 
recreation was the occasional intercourse with each other which 
their duty afforded them, and who lived in true harmony and 
union of mind and purpose. The last illness of Schwartz was 
cheered by the presence of almost all the missionaries in the 
south of India, who regarded him as a father, and called him 
by that endearing name. His labours did not diminish as his 
years increased. From the beginning of January to the middle 
of October, 1797, we are told by his pupil and assistant, Caspar 
Kolhoff, he preached every Sunday in the English and Tamul 
languages by turns; for several successive Wednesdays he gave 
lectures in their own languages to the Portuguese and German 
soldiers incorporated in the 51st regiment; during the week he 
explained the New Testament in his usual order at morning 
and evening prayer; and he dedicated an hour every day to the 


CHRISTIAN SCHWARTZ. 


371 


instruction of the Malabar school children. In October, he who 
hitherto had scarce known disease, received the warning of his 
mortality. He rallied for a while, and his friends hoped that 
he might yet be spared to them. But a relapse took place, and 
he expired February 13, 1798, having displayed throughout a 
long and painful illness a beautiful example of resignation and 
happiness, and an interest undimmed by pain in the welfare of 
all for and with whom he had laboured. His funeral, on the 
day after his death, presented a most affecting scene. It was 
delayed by the arrival of the Rajah, who wished to behold once 
more his kind, and faithful, and watchful friend and guardian. 
The coffin lid was removed; the prince gazed for the last time 
on the pale and composed features, and burst into tears. The 
funeral service was interrupted by the cries of a multitude who 
loved the reliever of their distresses, and honoured the pure life 
of the preacher, who for near fifty years had dwelt among them, 
careless alike of pleasure, interest, and ambition, pursuing a 
difficult and thankless task with unchanging ardour, the friend 
of princes, yet unsullied even by the suspicion of a bribe, de¬ 
voting his whole income, beyond a scanty maintenance, to the 
service of the cause which his life was spent in advocating. 

The Rajah continued to cherish Schwartz’s memory. He 
commissioned Flaxman for a monument erected to him at Tan- 
jore; he placed his picture among those of his own ancestors; 
he erected more than one costly establishment for charitable 
purposes in honour of his name; and, though not professing 
Christianity, he secured to the Christians in his service not only 
liberty, but full convenience for the performance of their reli¬ 
gious duties. Nor were the directors of the East India Company 
backward in testifying their gratitude for his services. They 
sent out a monument by Bacon to be erected in St. Mary’s Church 
at Madras, with orders to pay every becoming honour to his 
memory, and especially to permit to the natives, by whom he 
was so revered, free access to view this memorial of his virtues. 

It is to be regretted that no full memoir of the life and labours 
of this admirable man has been published. It is understood 
that his correspondence, preserved by the Society for promoting 
Christian Knowledge, would furnish ample materials for such a 
work. The facts of this account are taken from the only two 
memoirs of Schwartz which we know to be in print,—a short 


372 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


one for cheap circulation published by the Religious Tract So¬ 
ciety ; and a more finished tribute to his memory in Mr. Carne’s 
“ Lives of Eminent Missionaries,” recently published. We 
conclude in the words of one whose praise carries with it autho¬ 
rity, Bishop Heber: “ Of Schwartz, and his fifty years’ labour 
among the heathen, the extraordinary influence and popularity 
which he acquired, both with Mussulmans, Hindoos, and con¬ 
tending European governments, I need give you no account, 
except that my idea of him has been raised since I came into 
the south of India. I used to suspect that, with many admira¬ 
ble qualities, there was too great a mixture of intrigue in his 
character—that he was too much of a political prophet, and that 
the veneration which the heathen paid, and still pay him, (and 
which indeed almost regards him as a superior being, putting 
crowns, and burning lights before his statue,) was purchased by 
some unwarrantable compromise with their prejudices. I find 
I was quite mistaken. He was really one of the most active 
and fearless, as he was one of the most successful missionaries, 
who have appeared since the apostles. To say that he was dis-* 
interested in regard of money, is nothing; he was perfectly 
careless of power, and renown never seemed to affect him, even 
so far as to induce an outward show of humility. His temper 
was perfectly simple, open, and cheerful; and in his political 
negotiations (employments which he never sought, but which fell 
in his way) he never pretended to impartiality, but acted as the 
avowed, though certainly the successful and judicious agent of 
the orphan prince committed to his care, and from attempting 
whose conversion to Christianity he seems to have abstained 
from a feeling of honour.* His other converts were between 
six and seven thousand, besides those which his companions and 
predecessors in the cause had brought over.” 

* He probably acted on the same principle as in conducting the English 
schools above mentioned, using “no deceitful methods.” That he was earnest 
in recommending the means of conversion, appears from a dying conversation 
with his pupil, Serfogee Rajah. 



JOSEPH ADDISON. 


373 


JOSEPH ADDISON, 



WRITER of surpassing elegance, was 
born at Milton, near Amesbury, in Wilt¬ 
shire, on the 1st of May, 1672. In this 
town he received the rudiments of educa¬ 
tion, under the Rev. Mr. Naish, and was 
Sgf afterwards removed to the Rev. Mr. Taylor’s 
school, at Salisbury, and from thence to the 
Charter House, where he became acquainted 
with Steele. At the age of fifteen, he was en¬ 
tered of Queen’s College, Oxford; and, shortly 
afterwards, a copy of some of his Latin verses fall¬ 
ing into the hands of Dr. Lancaster, Dean of Mag¬ 
dalen College, that gentleman was so pleased with the 
talent they displayed, that he procured the author’s 
election into his own hall, where Addison took his de¬ 
grees of B. A. and M. A. In the course of a few years, 
he gained the applause of both universities, by his Latin com¬ 
positions, which were no less esteemed abroad, and are said to 
have elicited from Boileau the remark that he would not have 
written against Perrault, had he before seen such excellent 
pieces by a modern hand. His first publication, a copy of 
verses addressed to Mr. Dryden, appeared about 1694, who be¬ 
stowed great commendation both on this and the one that fol¬ 
lowed it, which was a translation of the fourth Georgic of Vir¬ 
gil, (omitting the story of Aristaeus.) His next production was 
“ An Essay on the Georgies/’ prefixed to Mr. Dryden’s transla¬ 
tion, an admirable piece of criticism ; and, about the same time, 
he wrote several small poems, one of which, dated April, 1694, 
was addressed to the famous Sacheverell, his intimacy with 
whom was subsequently broken off by their disagreement in 
political principles. 

Mr. Addison had, it seems, been urged by his father, Dean 
21 




374 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

Addison, to go into the church; but either on account of his 
remarkable seriousness and modesty, as related by Tickell, or, 
according to Steele, at the suggestion of Lord Halifax, he de¬ 
clined taking orders, and, in 1699, commenced a tour to Italy, 
on a travelling pension of <£300 per annum, obtained for him 
by Sir John Somers, whose patronage he had previously se¬ 
cured by addressing to him some verses on one of the cam¬ 
paigns of King William. In 1701, he wrote from Italy an 
epistolary poem to Lord Halifax, which was much admired both 
at home and abroad, and was translated into Italian verse by 
the Abbot Antonio Maria Saloini, professor of Greek, at Flo¬ 
rence. In 1702, he was appointed to attend Prince Eugene, 
who then commanded for the emperor, in Italy; but the death 
of King William happening soon afterwards, which put an end 
to this affair as well as his pension, he returned home and pub¬ 
lished an account of his travels, dedicated to Lord Somers. 
The work did not at first succeed; but, by degrees, says the 
writer of his life in the Biographia Britannica, as the curious 
entered deeper and deeper into the book, their judgment of it 
changed, and the demand for it became so great that the price 
rose to five times its original value before a second edition was 
printed. In 1704, an opportunity was afforded to him of dis¬ 
playing his abilities with advantage from the following circum¬ 
stance :—Lord Godolphin, the treasurer, happening to com¬ 
plain to Lord Halifax that the Duke of Marlborough’s victory 
at Blenheim had not been celebrated in verse as it deserved, 
the patron of our poet observed that he knew a person capable of 
writing upon such a subject, but that he would not name him— 
adding that he had long seen, with indignation, men of no merit 
maintained in pomp and luxury at the expense of the public, 
while persons of too much modesty, with great abilities, lan¬ 
guished in obscurity. Lord Godolphin took the hint, and, on 
Addison being named, sent the chancellor of the exchequer to 
wait upon him personally, when he, in consequence, undertook 
his celebrated poem of the campaign, which, being shown to the 
lord-treasurer when it was carried no farther than the famous 
simile of the angel, so pleased him that he immediately ap¬ 
pointed its author a commissioner of appeals. 

In 1705, Mr. Addison accompanied Lord Halifax to Hanover, 
and, in the following year, he was chosen under-secretary of 


JOSEPH ADDISON. 


375 


state to Sir Charles Hedges, and was continued in the same 
office by the Earl of Sunderland, who succeeded Sir Charles in 
December, 1706. About this time, a taste for operas begin¬ 
ning to prevail in England, the subject of our memoir was re¬ 
quested, by several persons of distinction, to try his skill in 
that species of composition, and he accordingly produced his 
Rosamond, which, had the music been equal to the poetry, 
would probably have met with success. In 1709, he accom¬ 
panied the Marquess of Wharton to Ireland as his secretary, 
and was, at the same time, appointed keeper of the records in 
that kingdom, with an increased salary of <£300 per annum. 
The publication of “ The Tattler” having been commenced in the 
same year by Steele, Addison continued to be a principal sup¬ 
porter of that paper until its cessation, in January, 1711, when 
the establishment of “The Spectator,” in the following March, 
again called into play his unequalled powers as an essayist. Of 
this publication we shall, at present, only observe that it was 
completed on the 6th of September, 1712, and that our author 
was careful to identify his papers throughout the whole by 
some letter in the name of the muse Clio. He also took a part 
in “The New Spectator,” which, however, failed, and to its suc¬ 
cessor,“The Guardian,” he contributed several excellent papers, 
which are distinguished by a hand. 

In 1713, appeared his celebrated tragedy of Cato, which, 
with a prologue by Pope, and an epilogue by Dr. Garth, was 
received, on its. representation at the theatre, with the most 
extravagant applause. During a run of five-and-thirty nights, 
it received the unanimous applause of Whigs and Tories—the 
former lauding to the skies every line in which liberty was 
mentioned, as a satire on their opponents; and the latter echo¬ 
ing every clap, to show that the satire was unfelt. It would 
seem, therefore, that party spirit, rather than the merit of the 
piece, was the source of its enthusiastic reception on the stage, 
whence it may now be considered as banished. As a poetical 
production, however, Cato afterwards raised its author to a very 
high rank in the literary world, and, besides being translated 
into French, Italian, and German, and acted by the Jesuit stu¬ 
dents at St. Omers, was attentively criticized by Voltaire, who, 
extravagant both in his praise and censure, declared the love- 
scenes contemptible, but the principal character superior to 


376 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


any before brought upon the stage. Notwithstanding, however, 
the weight of authority in its favour, Cato is a composition 
sufficiently bombastic and inflated to merit the fate of many of 
the performances which it has been fortunate enough to survive. 

Addison had already formed the design of composing an 
English Dictionary upon the plan of the Italian Della Crusca; 
but, upon the death of Queen Anne, being appointed secretary 
to the lords justices, he had not leisure to carry on the work. 
On the Earl of Sunderland’s becoming viceroy of Ireland, our 
author accompanied him to that country as secretary; and, on 
the removal of the earl, he was made one of the lords of trade. 
In 1715, he brought out “The Freeholder,” a kind of political 
Spectator, in which he so successfully mingled reason with hu¬ 
mour, as to soften much of the party spirit which existed at the 
breaking out of the rebellion. About this time, he also pub¬ 
lished several poetical pieces—one of which was addressed to 
the Princess of Wales, with the tragedy of Cato, and another 
to Sir Godfrey Kneller, on the king’s picture, in which he in¬ 
geniously adapted the heathen mythology to the English sove¬ 
reigns, from Charles the Second to George the First, inclusive. 
In 1716, he married the Countess of Warwick, to whose son he 
had been tutor; but, although he had obtained her hand by a 
long and anxious courtship, this union, of which one daughter 
was the fruit, made no addition to his happiness, owing to the 
proud and jealous temper of the countess. In 1717, he at¬ 
tained his highest political elevation, being made one of the 
principal secretaries of state; but, after holding the situation 
for some time, he solicited his own dismissal, and retired on a 
pension of <£1500 a year. To the ill health under which he 
was labouring at this time, some have attributed his relinquish¬ 
ment of this office; but the true cause was his unfitness for the 
details of business, and his senatorial deficiency as an orator— 
an objection to his preferment which he had himself previously 
started. 

After his retirement, he applied himself to the completion of 
some religious works, in which he had been interrupted by his 
political duties ; but, before he could finish any of them, the 
asthmatic disorder, under which he had for some time suffered, 
increased with fatal symptoms and put an end to his life, at 
Holland House, Kensington, on the 17th of June, 1719. He 


JOSEPH ADDISON. 


377 


met his end with great calmness and resignation, and rendered 
his death-bed memorable by the solemn injunction which he 
delivered from it to his step-son, the young and profligate Lord 
Warwick. He had often before attempted to reclaim him, and 
now made a last effort by saying to him, as he approached his 
bed-side, “ I have sent for you that you may see how a 
Christian can die.” 


i 


48 


2 i 2 


378 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ELIZABETH HOWE. 



LIZABETH HOWE, the daughter of the 
Reverend Mr. Singer, a dissenting minister, 
was born at Ilchester, in Somersetshire, on 
the 11th of September, 1674. Music, paint¬ 
ing, and poetry, she cultivated at an early 
age; and, in 1696, she published a volume 
of poems, which gained some reputation, having 
previously composed a paraphrase on the thirty- 
eighth chapter of Job, at the request of Bishop 
Ken. She afterwards studied French and Italian, 
under the superintendence of the Honourable Mr. 
Thynne, son to Lord Weymouth, who was much cap¬ 
tivated with her person and abilities, which induced, 
among others, the poet Prior, to pay his addresses to 
her. She, however, in 1710, gave her hand to Mr. 
Thomas Rowe, but becoming a widow in 1715, retired to 
Frome, in Somersetshire, where she composed the most cele¬ 
brated of her works, “Friendship in Death, or Twenty Letters 
from the Dead to the Living.” This was succeeded, in 1729, 
by “Letters, Moral and Entertaining, inVerse and Prose;” 
and, in 1736, by her « History of Joseph, a poem;” and, in the 
February of the following year, she died of apoplexy. Shortly 
after her death, Dr. Isaac Watts published her “ Devout Exercises 
of the Heart,” with a preface, in which he highly commends 
them, for the sublime sentiments and elevated piety which they 
contain. In 1739, appeared her Miscellaneous Works, in Prose 
and Verse, in two volumes, octavo, with an account of her life 
and writings prefixed. The poetry of Mrs. Rowe is of a serious 
cast, and displays feeling, imagination, and taste; but, upon the 
whole, it is not deserving of a higher epithet than respectable. 
Her character was exceedingly estimable, and she enjoyed the 
friendship of some of the most eminent literati of her day. 


GRANVILLE SHARP. 


379 


GRANVILLE SHARP, 



OUNGEST son of Dr. Thomas Sharp, a pre¬ 
bendary of Durham, and grandson of Dr. J. 
Sharp, Archbishop of York, was born in 1734, 
j and educated for the bar, hut never practised 
his profession. He had a place in the Ord¬ 
nance office, till the commencement of the 
American war, when he took chambers in the 
Temple, and, soon afterwards, became known 
to the public by his philanthropic conduct and 
writings. A negro, named Somerset, who had 
been brought, by his master, from the West Indies, 
and turned into the streets, in consequence of illness, 
was placed, by Mr. Sharp, in Bartholomew’s Hospi¬ 
tal ; and, on his restoration to health, established by 
his benefactor in a comfortable position. His former 
master, on ascertaining this, thought proper to seize 
him, and commit him to prison, as a runaway slave, when the 
subject of our memoir brought the case before the Lord Mayor, 
who decided in favour of the slave’s freedom. His inhuman 
master, however, grasping him by the collar, and attempting to 
detain him, Mr. Sharp commenced an action against the former 
in the Court of King’s Bench; and the result was, by a decision 
of the twelve judges, that slavery could not exist in Great Britain. 
Thus encouraged, he continued his exertions in opposition to 
slavery, for the abolition of which he instituted a society; and, 
about the same time, sent over, at his own expense, a number of 
negroes to Africa. Another instance of his public spirit was 
shown in his obtaining the release of a citizen of London, who 
had been impressed into the navy; to effect which, he procured 
a habeas corpus from the King’s Bench, and himself addressed 
the court. He died, beloved and respected by all who knew him, 
July the 6th, 1813. 


t 


380 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


HUGH BLAIR. 



UGH BLAIR, descended from Robert Blair, 
chaplain to Charles the First, and son of a 
merchant, who lost the greater part of his 
fortune in the South Sea scheme, was born at 
Edinburgh on the 7th of April, 1718. After 
having gone through a course of education at 
the high school, he, in 1730, entered the Uni¬ 
versity of Edinburgh, where he spent eleven 
years in the study of literature, philosophy and 
divinity. In the logic class he particularly ex¬ 
celled ; and his Essay on the Beautiful, a subject 
proposed by the professor, was highly applauded, 
and appointed to be publicly read. Having gradua¬ 
ted A. M. in 1739, he was, on the 23d of October, 
1741, licensed to preach by the presbytery; and, in 
the September of the following year, he was presented 
to the living of Colessie, in Fifeshire. In July, 1743, he was 
elected minister of the Canongate Church at Edinburgh, from 
which he was translated, in 1754, in consequence of a call from 
the town council, to Lady Yester’s Church, in the same city; 
and, in 1758, to the first charge in the High Church, being the 
most honourable clerical situation in Scotland. In 1757, the 
University of St. Andrew created him D. D.; at which time he 
had obtained great reputation as a preacher, but, as an author, 
had written nothing besides two sermons, and a few articles in 
a periodical work. In 1759, he prepared a course of lec¬ 
tures on composition, and delivered them with such success, 
that the university instituted a rhetorical class under his di¬ 
rection ; and the king founded a professorship of rhetoric and 
belles letters, in 1762, when Dr. Blair was appointed to the 
chair, with a salary of £70. About the same time he gave to 
the public his Dissertation on the Poems of Ossian; in which, 


HUGH BLAIR. 


381 


in one of the finest specimens of criticism ever produced, he 
zealously advocated their authenticity. In 1773, the first uni¬ 
form edition of the works of the British poets was published 
under his superintendence, and he also engaged in a new edition 
of the works of Shakspeare. In 1777, appeared the first volume 
of his Sermons, which Strahan purchased for <£100, on the 
recommendation of Dr. Johnson. They were succeeded by three 
additional volumes, for which he received <£1500, and he was 
further rewarded, at the request of Queen Charlotte, with a 
pension of <£200 per annum. In 1783, he resigned his pro¬ 
fessorship, and published his Lectures on Composition, which 
contain an accurate analysis of the principles of literary com¬ 
position, in every species of writing, and an able digest of the 
rules of eloquence, as applicable to the oratory of the pulpit, 
the bar, and of popular assemblies. 

In the summer of 1800, he began to prepare an additional 
volume of his Sermons for the press, but did not live to publish 
them, his death taking place in the December of the same year. 
He had married, in 1748, his cousin, Miss Bannatine, by whom 
he had a son and a daughter, both of whom he survived, together 
with his wife. 

The Lectures and Sermons of Dr. Blair still continue to hold 
a high rank in public estimation, though the latter, from their 
general want of profundity, have been considered rather as 
treatises than sermons. They were, however, the first regular 
didactic orations that had been heard in Scotland, and have 
been justly described as occupying a middle place between the 
dry metaphysical discussions of one class of preachers, and 
the loose, incoherent declamation of another; and as blending 
together, in the happiest manner, the light of argument with 
the warmth of exhortation. The private character of Dr. Blair 
was, in every respect, that of the divine and the philanthropist: 
with eminent talents and inflexible integrity, he possessed a 
mind of the most unsuspecting simplicity; “which,” says his 
biographer, Dr. Finlayson, “ while it secured to the last his own 
relish of life, was wonderfully calculated to endear him to his 
friends, and to render him an invaluable member of every society 
to which he belonged.” 


382 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


COLONEL GARDINER. 



AMES, the second son of Captain Patrick 
Gardiner, was born at Carriden, in Linlith¬ 
gowshire, on the 10th of January, 1688. 
When fourteen years of age, he entered the 
army as ensign of a Scotch regiment in the 
Dutch service. At the battle of Ramillies, he 
was one of those who composed the forlorn hope 
appointed to dislodge the French from a church¬ 
yard. On this occasion, he planted his colours 
on an advanced ground, and, while encouraging 
his men, received a shot in the mouth, which passed 
through his neck, without knocking out a tooth, or 
touching the fore part of his tongue. He remained 
on the field until the next morning, when a Cordelier 
mistaking him for a Frenchman, carried him to an adjoin¬ 
ing convent, where he was hospitably entertained and 
cured of his wound. He bore a share in almost every action 
fought by the Duke of Marlborough, in Flanders; and, at the 
siege of Preston, in Lancashire, signalized himself by setting fire 
to the barricado of the rebels, in the face of their whole army, 
at the head of only twelve men, eight of whom were killed dur¬ 
ing the exploit. He was afterwards appointed master of the 
horse to the Earl of Stair, whom he accompanied to Paris ; where, 
fascinated by the temptations to which he was exposed, he gave 
himself up wholly to pleasure and sensuality. 

A strange circumstance, however, which befell him in 1719, 
although it was attended with no immediate effect, eventually 
changed the entire tenour of his conduct. After spending a 
Sabbath evening in gayety, he retired to his chamber at eleven 
o’clock, when his party broke up; and, having an assignation 
with a married woman at twelve, he resolved to beguile away 
the intervening hour with a book. The work on which he 


COLONEL GARDINER. 


383 


chanced first to lay his hand, was entitled “ The Christian Soldier, 
or Heaven taken by Stormand he began to peruse it, under 
an idea that its contents would be amusingly absurd. Suddenly 
he thought he saw an unusual blaze of light fall upon the book, 
which he attributed to some accident that had occurred to the 
candle; but, on looking up, he believed that there was before 
him, as it were suspended in the air, a visible representation of 
our Saviour on the cross, surrounded with a glory; and he was 
impressed, at the same time, with the idea that he heard words 
to this effect, “ Oh! sinner, did I suffer this for thee, and are 
these thy returns ?” A faintness then came over him, and he 
fell into a chair, where he remained senseless, for a considerable 
time. This incident had so powerful an effect upon his mind, 
that at length he became as remarkable for sanctity of life as 
he had previously been notorious for debauchery and dissipa¬ 
tion. Religion, however, did not render him inattentive to his 
professional duties; he was a strict disciplinarian, and watched 
over his men in the double capacity of a military as well as a 
spiritual director. 

In 1743, he was appointed colonel of Bland’s dragoons, and 
commanded that regiment at the battle of Preston-Pans, in 1745. 
The day before the engagement took place, though much en¬ 
feebled by illness, he harangued his men in the most animat¬ 
ing manner; and, on perceiving some timidity manifested by 
them, exclaimed, “ I cannot influence the conduct of others as 
I could wish, but I have one life to sacrifice to my country’s 
safety, and I shall not spare it.” He continued all night under 
arms, wrapped up in his cloak, and sheltered by a rick of bar¬ 
ley. At three in the morning he called his four domestic ser¬ 
vants to him, and addressing them in a pathetic tone of Christian 
exhortation, bade them farewell, as if for ever. “ There is great 
reason to believe,” says Doddridge, his spiritual friend and bio¬ 
grapher, “ that he spent the little remainder of the time, which 
could not be much above an hour, in those devout exercises of 
the soul which had been so long habitual to him, and to which 
so many circumstances did then concur to call him.” 

Early in the battle, which commenced before sunrise and con¬ 
tinued only a few minutes, he received a bullet in his left breast, 
and soon afterwards another in his right thigh. He still, how¬ 
ever, though pressed to retreat, fought on, and some of the 


384 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


enemy, it is said, fell by his hand. Deserted by his regiment, 
which he had in vain attempted to rally, he placed himself at 
the head of a party of foot, whom he had been ordered to sup¬ 
port, and who were bravely fighting near him, but without a 
commander. On riding towards them, he exclaimed, “Fire on 
my lads, and fear nothing !” These words were scarcely uttered, 
when a Highlander wounded him so severely in the right arm, 
with a scythe, that the sword dropped from his hand. While 
still entangled with his assailant’s weapon, other insurgents 
came up and dragged him from his horse; and one of these, the 
moment he fell, struck him a mortal blow, either with a broad¬ 
sword or a Lochaber axe, on the back of the head. He caught 
his hat as it dropped, with his left hand, and waved it to his 
servant as a signal to retreat, exclaiming, with his last breath, 
“ Take care of yourself!” 

Although the young Pretender, in going over the field, after 
the battle, is said to have gently raised this brave soldier’s head, 
and to have exclaimed, “ Poor Gardiner! would to God I could 
restore thy life !” yet, it is asserted, that the rebels treated his 
body with great indignity, and stripped his house, which ad¬ 
joined the scene of contest, of every article it contained. He 
was interred in the burial ground of Tranent, his parish church, 
at which he had been a constant attendant. By his wife, a 
daughter of the Earl of Buchan, he had eleven children, but 
only five survived him. His father died of fatigue at the battle 
of Hochstet; his maternal uncle was killed at Steenkirk; and 
his eldest brother, when only sixteen years old, fell at the siege 
of Namur. 

In person, Colonel Gardiner was strongly built, and well- 
proportioned ; in stature, unusually tall; and in the expression 
of his countenance, intellectual and dignified. In calm heroism, 
he has never been excelled. He once refused a challenge; but, 
so highly was he esteemed for courage, without any imputation 
on his character as a soldier. “I fear sinning,” said he, on 
this occasion, “though you know I do not fear fighting!” The 
energy he displayed, notwithstanding his bodily infirmities, on 
the day preceding the fight, at Preston-Pans, his pious exhorta¬ 
tion to his domestics^ his devotion before the battle, and his 
calm, unflinching bravery, during the contest, have thrown a 
romantic charm around his memory, by which it will, doubtless, 


COLONEL GARDINER. 


385 


be long and deservedly embalmed. In conversation he was 
cheerful, and eminently persuasive; in disposition, exceedingly 
charitable; and, in religious principles, though a strict dissenter, 
amiably tolerant to those who most materially differed from him 
in doctrinal points. The circumstance which led to his conver¬ 
sion from lewdness and impiety to enthusiastic devotion, may be 
easily explained without the intervention of supernatural agency. 
He had passed the evening amid the excitation of gay, and, per¬ 
haps, dissolute society; he was about to transgress one of those 
holy ordinances, an obedience to which, the book that fell into 
his hands most probably enjoined; he had previously, at times, 
suffered most bitterly from the compunctions of conscience; and, 
not long before, had been thrown from his horse with such vio¬ 
lence, that his brain, perhaps, was slightly affected by the fall: 
these circumstances, acting on so susceptible an imagination as 
Gardiner appears to have possessed, may have produced that 
delusion of the senses, to which the happy amelioration of his 
conduct has been principally attributed. 


2 K 


49 


386 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ARCHBISHOP TENISON. 



HOMAS, son of the Reverend John Tenison, 
was born at Cottenham, in Cambridgeshire, 
on the 29th of September, 1636. He acquired 
the rudiments of education at the grammar- 
school of Norwich, whence, about the year 
1653, he was removed to Corpus Christi Col¬ 
lege, Cambridge. He took the degree of B. A. 
in 1657, and that of M. A. in 1660, during 
which year he obtained a fellowship. In 1662, 
he became tutor of his college; and, in 1665, he 
was chosen one of the university preachers, and 
presented to the curacy of St. Andrew the Great. 
His conduct to the sick, when the plague broke out at 
Cambridge, was so exemplary and self-devoted, that, 
as a token of their admiration and gratitude, his parish¬ 
ioners presented him with a valuable piece of plate. In 
1667, be took his degree of B. D., and became chaplain to the 
Earl of Manchester: from whom, about the same time, he ob¬ 
tained the rectory of Holywell, in Huntingdonshire. Shortly 
afterwards, he married Anne, the daughter of Dr. Love, master 
of his college. In 1674, he was appointed upper minister of 
St. Peter’s Manscroft, Norwich. In 1680, he took the degree 
of D. D.; became one of the royal chaplains ; and was presented 
by Charles II. to the vicarage of St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields. In 
1685, he attended the Duke of Monmouth to the scaffold; on N 
which occasion he deported himself, according to Burnet, with 
all the honest freedom of a Christian minister, and yet with 
such prudence as to give no offence. 

Although a zealous Protestant, he is said to have been much 
esteemed, on account of his integrity and abilities, by James II.; 
to whose successors, William and Mary, he rendered himself 
particularly acceptable, by his moderation towards the dissent- 


ARCHBISHOP TENISON. 


387 


ers. Soon after the Revolution, he was made archdeacon of 
London; and, having displayed great zeal in a project, that 
was shortly afterwards brought forward, for reconciling the 
various Protestant sects to the established church, he was raised 
to the see of Lincoln, in 1691. It is related that Lord Jersey, 
then master of the horse, had endeavoured to prevent his eleva¬ 
tion to the episcopal bench, by reminding Queen Mary that he 
had preached a funeral sermon for the celebrated Nell Gwynn. 
“I have heard as much,” replied her majesty; “and it is a 
sign that the poor unfortunate woman died penitent; for, if I 
can read a man’s heart through his looks, had she not made a 
truly pious and Christian end, the doctor could never have been 
induced to speak well of her.” 

In 1693, he was offered the archbishopric of Dublin; which, 
however, he refused, because a measure, suggested by himself, 
and to which the king was favourable, of restoring to the respect¬ 
ive parish churches the impropriations of estates forfeited to the 
crown, could not be accomplished. In the following year, he 
was raised to the archbishopric of Canterbury; a station for 
which, in the opinion of a majority of his contemporaries, he was 
eminently qualified. By her own desire, he attended Queen 
Mary during her last moments, and preached her funeral sermon. 
Taking advantage of the serious feelings, which the death of his 
consort produced in King William, Tenison boldly censured him 
for his immoralities; and, in particular, protested with such 
energy against the monarch’s illicit connection with Lady Vil- 
liers, that his majesty promised never to see her again. 

He officiated as primate at the coronation of Queen Anne, 
with whom he appears to have been by no means a favourite, 
although he had strenuously exerted himself to procure her a 
proper settlement in the preceding reign. He, doubtless, ren¬ 
dered himself obnoxious to her majesty, by his strong inclination 
0 for a Protestant succession; which, in 1705, induced him to 
enter into a correspondence with the Electress Sophia. In 
1706, he was chosen first commissioner for effecting the union 
with Scotland; and, on the death of Queen Anne, he was one 
of those who were appointed to take charge of the instrument, 
which gave the new monarch power to appoint a regency, until 
his arrival in this country. He did not long survive the coro¬ 
nation of George I., at which he officiated as primate; his death 


388 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


occurring on the 14th of December, 1715. He was buried in 
Lambeth church, by the side of his wife, who had died without 
issue, in the preceding year. 

Archbishop Tenison published an able treatise, in opposition to 
the opinions of Hobbes; “Sir Thomas Browne’s Tracts;” “The 
Remains of Bacon ;” “A Discourse on Idolatry;” a variety of 
sermons, and a number of tracts, in defence of the established 
church against popery. Of preferment, he appears to have 
been by no means ambitious. As a preacher, he was plain, but 
forcible; and, as a writer, clear and argumentative, but never 
brilliant. The parish of St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields is indebted 
to him for its library; he rebuilt the chancel of Topcroft church, 
where his parents were buried; and, after having been eminently 
beneficent throughout life, bequeathed at his death very con¬ 
siderable sums to charitable uses. Macky says that he was a 
plain, good, heavy man; very tall; of a fair complexion; and a 
great opponent of the progress of popery, in the reign of King 
James. Swift, doubtless under the influence of party rancour, 
terms him the most good-for-nothing prelate, and the dullest 
man he ever knew. The witty dean is also reported to have 
originated the saying, that “ Tenison was as hot and heavy as 
a tailor’s goose.” On the other hand, Baxter regarded him 
with warm admiration; Burnet, ignorant of Swift’s animosity 
towards him, declared that he had many friends, and no ene¬ 
mies ; Kennett speaks of him as having been exemplary in every 
station of life; the anonymous author of his memoirs states that 
he was an exact pattern of that exemplary piety, charity, sted- 
fastness, and good conduct, requisite in a governor of the church; 
and Garth, alluding to his elevation to the primacy, says:— 

Good Tenison’s celestial piety, 

At last, has raised him to the sacred see. 


WILLIAM LAW. 


389 


WILLIAM LAW. 



ARIOUS works of practical divinity were 
Q produced by this divine, but he is best known 
j from having lived in the family of Mr. Gib¬ 
bon, father of the historian Gibbon, which 
led to the introduction of some valuable 
notices of his life, habits, and opinions, in the 
beautiful fragment of autobiography which 
the historian prepared. 

He was born in Northamptonshire, in 1686, 
went to Cambridge with a view of entering the 
church, took the degrees of B. A. and M. A., was 
of Emanuel College, and in 1711 elected a Fellow. 
On the accession of King George I., he refused to 
take the oaths prescribed by act of parliament, and 
in consequence vacated his fellowship. It was soon 
after this that he entered the family of Mr. Gibbon, 
who resided at Putney. Here he continued several years, and 
his connection with the family became perpetuated to his death, 
in consequence of a design which Miss Hester (ribbon, the sis¬ 
ter of the historian, formed, and executed, of retiring from the 
world in company with her friend Mrs. Elizabeth Hutcheson, 
and living a life of charity and piety, with Mr. Law for their 
chaplain. They fixed upon King’s Cliff, the place of Mr. Law’s 
birth, as the spot to which they retired, and there Mr. Law 
lived the last twenty years of his life, dying April 9, 1761. 

Mr. Law was the author of various works, in which he re¬ 
commends the exercises of a piety which approaches to the 
character of ascetic, and which it is almost impossible for any 
one to practise who is not in a great degree relieved from the 
necessity of attention to the ordinary business of life. The 
most popular of them is entitled “A Serious Call to a Devout 
and Holy Life.” 


2 k 2 


390 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JOHN HOWARD. 



HIS great philanthropist was born at Clap¬ 
ton, near London, in 1726. Of his early 
life little is known; but there is reason to 
believe that he received from his parents in¬ 
struction in the principles of the Christian 
religion. When quite young, he lost his 
mother; his days at school were limited, and 
he was apprenticed to a tradesman in London. 
The pursuits of commerce were not congenial to 
his taste ; nor was his health such as could sustain 
systematic confinement to the counting-house. The 
death of his father afforded him an opportunity to 
leave the situation, and, after taking possession of 
his patrimony, he entered upon a course of reading 
and travel, two things of which he was passionately 
fond. Having spent two years in France and Italy, he 
returned to England, and fixed his residence near by London. 
Here he married, and soon afterwards entered upon some 
schemes of benevolence, every way worthy the future philan¬ 
thropist. After a happy union of three years, his wife was 
parted from him by death, and, to divert his thoughts from the 
loss, he resolved on another tour upon the Continent. In No¬ 
vember, 1755, the month and year in which Mrs. Howard died, 
Lisbon was desolated by an earthquake, and thousands of the 
inhabitants reduced to poverty. The heart of Howard was 
wrung by the accounts received concerning these unfortunate 
persons ; but, instead of driving the painful idea from his mind, 
he adopted the noble resolution of visiting Portugal to do what 
he could for the sufferers. 

Howard embarked for Lisbon (1756) in the Hanover. The 
vessel had scarcely cleared the Thames, when it was encoun¬ 
tered by a French vessel, captured, and its prisoners thrown 



JOHN HOWARD. 


391 


mto the hold. After much suffering, they were put ashore at 
Brest, imprisoned in the castle, and, "during six days, exposed 
to the rage of thirst and hunger. At the end of that time, 
Howard, with several others, was sent to Morlaix, and thence 
to Carpaix; hut he bore his sufferings with so much fortitude 
as to enlist many Frenchmen in his favour, and thereby attained 
a considerable amelioration of his condition. The remaining 
prisoners at Brest and Morlaix were meanwhile suffering every 
extremity of distress. These places were the receptacles for 
the English captured by French vessels. Hundreds of them 
perished by want or pestilence, and from one prison thirty-six 
dead-bodies were thrown into a pit in a day. Intelligence of 
this was conveyed by letter to Mr. Howard. His heart bled 
at the sufferings of his countrymen ; he implored leave to visit 
his country, and, after a lapse of two months, permission was 
granted, on condition of his returning to France if the English 
government refused to exchange for him one of the French 
officers. 

On arriving at London, Howard immediately gave the go¬ 
vernment information of the condition of his captive country¬ 
men. His representations awakened the sympathy and excited 
the indignation of the nation. He received for it the thanks 
of parliament, and the interference in behalf of the prisoners 
at Brest and Carpaix resulted in a mitigation of their condi¬ 
tion, and perhaps the saving of many lives. 

In 1758, Howard again married, his second wife being a 
daughter of Henry Leeds, of Cambridgeshire. He retired with 
her to Cardington, a small village fifty-six miles from London. 
There he spent seven years, surrounded by the various fascina¬ 
tions of a rural life, and devoting his time to reading, garden¬ 
ing, and the exercise of benevolence. This peaceful seclusion 
was broken upon by death. Howard wept over the grave of 
his second partner, and of the spell which had bound him to the 
cottage-home of Cardington, no part remained save an infant 
son. On this boy Howard now concentrated his affections. 
He taught him to read, carried or led him to church, and in¬ 
structed him in the elements of religion. When the child was 
five years old, he was placed under the instructions of an aunt, 
and a few years later placed at school. During this time, his 
vacations were spent at Cardington, and, until the time of en- 


392 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


tering college, he manifested for his father an affection as pleas¬ 
ing in himself as honourable to his parent. 

After his wife’s death, and during the infancy of his son, 
Howard spent a large portion of his time in travelling upon 
the Continent. His journeys were not idle rambles, nor means 
of dissipation and folly. Everywhere he sought opportunities 
of doing good, and his soul appears to have been pervaded with 
a deep sense of unworthiness, and a desire to do good to others. 
“0 my soul,” he wrote in Italy, “keep close to God in the 
amiable light of redeeming love, and, amid the snares thou art 
particularly exposed to in a country of such wickedness and 
folly, stand thou in awe and sin not; commune with thine own 
heart; see what progress thou makest in thy religious journey. 
Art thou nearer the heavenly Canaan ? Is the vital flame 
burning clearer and clearer ? Or are the concerns of a moment 
engrossing thy foolish heart ? Stop ; remember thou art a 
candidate for eternity; daily fervently pray for wisdom ; lift 
up your heart and eyes to the Rock of Ages, and then look down 
on the glory of this world. A little while and thy journey 
will be ended.” Never, perhaps, did uninspired pen approach 
nearer the style and spirit of St. Paul. In the same style he 
spoke of the corruption of his heart. “ When I consider and 
look upon my heart, I doubt, I tremble. Such a vile creature 
—sin, folly, and imperfection in every action—0 dreadful 
thought!—a body of sin and death I carry about me, ever 
ready to depart from God, and, with all the dreadful catalogue 
of sins committed, my heart faints within me and almost de¬ 
spairs. * * * Shall I limit,” he afterwards adds, “ the grace 
of God ? Can I fathom his goodness ? Here, on his sacred 
day, I once more, in the dust, before the eternal God, acknow¬ 
ledge my sins heinous and aggravated in his sight. I would 
have the deepest sorrow and contrition of heart, and cast my 
guilty and polluted soul on thy sovereign mercy in the Re¬ 
deemer. 0 compassionate and divine Redeemer, save me from 
the dreadful guilt and power of sin, and accept of my solemn, 
free, and, I trust, unreserved, full surrender of my soul, my 
spirit, my dear child, all I have and am into thy hands.” These 
extracts exhibit the cause and the support of that spirit of phi¬ 
lanthropy which has excited the wonder of the civilized world. 

After returning to England, Howard was, in 1773, made 


JOHN HOWARD. 


393 


High Sheriff of Bedfordshire. He, in common with many good 
men, had long believed that the inmates of the public prisons 
were exposed to extremes of want and suffering. His office en¬ 
abled him to inquire into the matter, and the result of the in- 
quiry must have shocked a mind framed as was his. Details 
of those dens of crime and lingering death, the prisons of Eu¬ 
rope, would sicken the attentive reader; but a glance at some 
of the enormities perpetrated upon the victims, may impart a 
faint idea of their condition. Of the miserable pittance of 
bread they were, to a great extent, deprived by the rapacity of 
the jailors, who, being brutes in human form, could look with 
cold indifference upon the writhings of agony or the gaspings 
of hunger. Some lay on the damp ground; some on straw, 
matted and baked with filth; some in corners, whose loathsome¬ 
ness may not be mentioned ; all raging with the pangs of thirst 
and hunger. Jail fever, that boon to the wretched prisoner, 
swept them away by scores. The stench of corpses ; the dank, 
pestilential air; the dampness of the dungeon walls; deprived 
others of the use of their limbs and of reason. In some places 
the prison-grounds were saturated with stagnant water. In 
one prison it was customary to chain the prisoners on their 
backs upon the floor by an iron-spiked collar around the neck, 
and a heavy bar over the extremities. Men accused of murder, 
and men acquitted of all crime, the highway robber, and the 
debtor to five shillings ; those who had defrauded of millions, 
and those who could not pay the jailor a freedom-fee; the dis¬ 
eased, the maniac, the broken-hearted; were mixed and min¬ 
gled together. 

Such was the operation of the British prison system, when 
Howard became High Sheriff of Bedfordshire. He shuddered 
at the misery: he resolved to ameliorate it, and in one year he 
visited the various prisons of the United Kingdom, consoling 
and aiding the captives, noting down faithful records of their 
sufferings, and forming a plan for a thorough reformation of 
the prison system. His attention was next directed to the Con¬ 
tinent. In April, 1775, he went to France, and thence, to 
Flanders, Holland, and Germany, visiting in his route hundreds 
of prisons, and noting down his observations, as he did in Eng¬ 
land. “ With the utmost difficulty,” he wrote from Germany, 
“ did I get access to many dismal abodes, and, through the 
50 


394 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


hand of God, I have been preserved in health and safety. 
Though conscious of the utmost weakness, imperfection, and 
folly, I would hope my heart deceives me not when I say to 
my friend, I trust I intend well. The great example—the glo¬ 
rious and divine Saviour—the first thought humbles and abases; 
yet, blessed be God, it exalts and rejoices in that infinite and 
boundless source of love and mercy.” 

On his return to England, Howard prepared his great work 
on “ The State of the Prisons in England and Wales.” In this 
book he describes, as Howard only could describe, the suffer¬ 
ings of the prisoners from want of food; the loss of health and 
life, through impure air and accumulations of filth; the jail 
fever; and the evils of the system which caused jailors to de¬ 
pend for a living on money extorted from the prisoners rather 
than a regular salary. He denounced the English prison sys¬ 
tem as a disgrace to the country, showed how it might be re¬ 
medied, and that its improvement would benefit the country in 
a pecuniary degree, as well as on the score of humanity. This 
work was printed in 1777. It produced a deep sensation 
throughout the kingdom, and to its appearance we may refer 
the commencement of the great reform in English prison dis¬ 
cipline. 

His book was scarcely issued, when the author began another 
tour of benevolence through Great Britain, and, in the remain¬ 
ing thirteen years of his life, we find him repeating that journey 
several times, and making five different journeys to the Conti¬ 
nent. When the plague broke out with fearful violence in the 
countries around Turkey, he fearlessly entered the sphere of 
its ravages, studied in every place, amid scenes and dangers 
which would have appalled the courage of the boldest soldier, 
and, in the character of a physician, personally administered 
relief to thousands. He left England for the last time in July, 
1789, his object being to ascertain, if possible, the real nature 
of the plague, with a view of applying a certain remedy. He 
landed in Holland, passed through Germany and Prussia, and 
reached Moscow in September. All the prisons and hospitals 
in his way were flung open to him. « The hospitals,” he wrote 
from Moscow, “ are in a sad state. Upwards of seventy thou¬ 
sand sailors and recruits died in them last year. I labour to 
convey the torch of philanthropy into these distant regions, as 


JOHN HOWARD. 


395 


in God’s hand no instrument is weak, and in whose presence no 
flesh must glory. * * * My medical acquaintance give me but 
little hope of escaping the plague in Turkey ; but my spirits do 
not at all fail me, and, indeed, I do not look back, but would 
readily endure any hardships and encounter any dangers to he 
an honour to my Christian profession.” Soon after writing 
this letter, Howard travelled several hundred miles through 
Russia, and reached Cherson on the Black Sea. His fame as 
a physician and a philanthropist had preceded him, and, among 
the numerous visits that he was called upon to make, was one 
to a young lady ill of fever. Her residence was twenty-four 
miles from Cherson. Howard went; his efforts to save her 
life were vain, and he himself fell a victim to the disease, 
among whose ravages he had so long moved unscathed. He 
was buried by his own request about eight miles from Cherson ; 
hut, under the epitaph of his Henrietta at Cardington, is graven 
another written by himself. It reads, “John Howard, died 
January 20th, 1790. My hope is in Christ.” 


396 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


WILLIAM COWPER. 



ILLIAM, son of the Reverend Dr. John Cow- 
per, chaplain to George the Second, was born 
at Berkhampstead, in Hertfordshire, of which 
place his father was rector, on the 26th of 
November, 1731. He received the earliest 
rudiments of education at a day-school in his 
native village; and in his seventh year, at 
which time he lost his mother, he was placed 
under the care of Dr. Pitnam, of Market street, 
where he remained about eighteen months, when 
he was removed, in consequence of some specks 
appearing in his eyes, from which blindness was ap¬ 
prehended. “My father,” he says in one of his 
letters, “ alarmed for the consequences, sent me to a 
female oculist, of great renown at that time, in whose 
house I abode two years, but to no good purpose. 
From her I went to Westminster school, where, at the age of 
fourteen, the small-pox seized me, and proved the better oculist 
of the two, for it delivered me from them all.” During his 
stay at this school, he was remarkable alike for his close atten¬ 
tion to his studies, and his gentle disposition, which exposed 
him to insults and cruelties from his school-fellows, that he never 
recollected but with anguish. His own forcible expression, says 
his biographer, Hayley, represented him at Westminster, as not 
daring to raise his eye above the shoe-buckle of the elder boys. 

He left Westminster in 1749 ; and, about three months after¬ 
wards, was placed with Mr. Chapman, a solicitor, in London; 
but, from the following passage in a letter to a relative, Lady 
Hesketh, he does not appear to have paid much attention to 
legal studies. He says, in a playful remonstrance—«I did ac¬ 
tually live three years with Mr. Chapman, a solicitor, that is to 


WILLIAM COWPER. 


397 


say, I slept three years in his house; but I lived, that is to say, 
I spent my days in Southampton Row, as you very well remem¬ 
ber. There was I, and the future lord-chancellor, (Thurlow,) 
constantly employed from morning till night in giggling and 
making giggle, instead of studying law\” On leaving Mr. 
Chapman, he took chambers in, and became a student of, the 
Middle Temple; and, forming an intimacy with his school-fel¬ 
lows, the elder Colman, Bonnell Thornton, and Lloyd, he 
assisted the two first in their celebrated periodical, “ The Con¬ 
noisseur;” and otherwise indulged his taste for the belles lettres, 
both in prose and poetry. 

Success at the bar, with Cowper’s frame of mind, his friends 
had little hopes of, and, therefore, procured for him the situa¬ 
tion of reading-clerk, and clerk of the private committees in 
the House of Lords, to which he was appointed in his thirty-first 
year. Being unable, however, to undergo the torture, as he 
called it, of reading in public, he resigned these offices after a 
week’s struggle, and accepted that of clerk of the journals, in 
which it was supposed his personal appearance would not be re¬ 
quired in the House of Lords. A parliamentary dispute, how¬ 
ever, making it necessary for him to appear at the bar of the 
house, that his fitness for the employment might be publicly ac¬ 
knowledged, his nerves were so wrought upon by the idea of 
such a public exhibition of himself, which he called a mortal 
poison, that the strength of his reason gave way, and on the 
arrival of the period for his appearance, he was no longer in 
possession of his intellectual powers. In this distressing state, 
it was found necessary to place him under the care of Dr. Cot¬ 
ton, in an asylum at St. Albans, where he remained from De¬ 
cember, 1763, until the July of the following year, in a state 
of mental aberration, and of a religious despondency to such a 
degree, that he is said to have been in continual expectation of 
being instantly plunged into eternal punishment. His mind at 
length becoming more composed, he began to derive consolation 
from those truths which had before seemed so terrible to him; 
and at the invitation of his brother John, a clergyman, and fel¬ 
low of Cambridge, he removed to Huntingdon, in order to be 
near him. He had not been long here before his acquaintance 
commenced with the Unwins, into whose family he was intro¬ 
duced by Mr. Cawthorne Unwin, who, struck with the appear- 


398 


LIVES OP EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ance of Cowper, had accosted him during a walk, which was the 
beginning of their subsequent intimacy. He continued to re¬ 
side with them in their house at Huntingdon, until the death 
of the elder Mr. Unwin, in July, 1767, to which our author thus 
alludes in a letter to Lady Hesketh. “ The effect of it upon 
my circumstances will only be a change of the place of my 
abode; for I shall still, by God’s leave, continue with Mrs. 
Unwin, whose behaviour to me has always been that of a mother 
to a son.” With this lady (the Mary of his poems) and her 
daughter, he removed in the following October, to Olney, in 
Buckinghamshire, on the solicitation of the Rev. Mr. Newton, 
the rector of that place, and with whom Cowper formed one of 
the most close and delightful friendships of his life. Religious 
meditation and the exercise of charity, in which he was en¬ 
couraged by an annual allowance, for that purpose, of <£200 a 
year, from John Thornton, Esquire, formed his chief occupa¬ 
tion; and, writing to decline the invitation of a friend, in 1769, 
he says, he “prefers his home to any other spot on earth.” 
Among other employments, he composed sixty-eight hymns, 
which were inserted in Mr. Newton’s collections, and he per¬ 
sonally directed the prayers and devotions of the poor. Such 
a life, however, had a tendency to increase the morbid propen¬ 
sity of his frame, which was increased, in March, 1770, by the 
death of his brother John, whom he had taken great pains to 
imbue with his own religious views, and, after some difficulty, 
succeeded. In 1773, he “ sunk into such severe paroxysms of 
religious despondency,” says Hayley, “ that he required an at¬ 
tendant of the most gentle, vigilant, and inflexible spirit;” and, 
he adds, “ such an attendant he found in his faithful guardian, 
Mrs. Unwin, who watched over him during this long flt of de¬ 
pressive malady, extended through several years, with that 
perfect mixture of tenderness and fortitude, which constitutes 
the inestimable influence of maternal protection.” 

In the beginning of 1778, his mind began to recover itself; 
but, before it was sufficiently established to allow of his return 
to literary pursuits, he amused himself in educating a group of 
tame hares, an account of which he wrote in prose for “ The Gen¬ 
tleman’s Magazine.” In the summer of the same year, having 
completely regained the use of his faculties, he resumed his cor¬ 
respondence with his friends, and diverted himself by drawing, 


WILLIAM COWPER. 


899 


carpentering, and gardening. “I am pleased,’’ he says in a 
letter, dated 1780, to Mr. Newton, who had removed to London, 
“with a frame of four lights, doubtful whether the few pines it 
contains will ever be worth a farthing; amuse myself with a 
green-house, which Lord Bute’s gardener could take upon his 
back, and walk away with; and when I have paid it the accus¬ 
tomed visit, and watered it, and given it air, I say to myself— 
4 This is not mine; ’tis a plaything lent me for the present: I 
must leave it soon.’ ” In the last-mentioned and the following 
year he wrote several poems, besides a translation of some of 
the spiritual songs of Madame Guion; and, in 1782, an octavo 
volume was published, at the expense of Johnson, of St. Paul’s 
Church-yard, who took the whole risk upon himself. The prin¬ 
cipal subjects are Table Talk, The Progress of Error, Truth, 
Expostulation, Hope, Retirement, Charity, and Conversation, 
by which he at once established his reputation as a poet, though 
they gained him no popularity. His eulogy on Whitefield, who 
at that time was looked upon as a fanatic; his acrimonious cen¬ 
sure of Charles Wesley, for allowing sacred music to form part 
of his occupation on Sundays, and other occasional touches of 
austerity, excited prejudices against his first volume, the merit 
of which deserved a success it did not meet with. 

About a year preceding the publication of his first volume 
of poems, Cowper formed an acquaintance with Lady Austen, 
widow of Sir Robert Austen, who exercised a very happy in¬ 
fluence over his genius. To his intimacy with this lady we are 
indebted for his famous poem of John Gilpin, the story of which 
she related to him one night, for the purpose of arousing his 
spirits from their almost habitual gloom. “Its effect on the 
fancy of Cowper,” says Hayley, “had the air of enchantment; 
he informed her the next morning, that convulsions of laughter, 
brought on by his recollections of the story, had kept him Avak- 
ing during the greatest part of the night, and that he had turned 
it into a ballad.” It was first printed, it appears, in the Public 
Advertiser, to which paper it was sent by Mrs. Unwin; where 
the late Mr. Henderson, the actor, happening to see it, con¬ 
ceiving it eminently qualified to display his rich comic powers, 
he read it at the Freemason’s Hall, in the course of entertain¬ 
ments given there by himself and the late Thomas Sheridan. 
It then became extremely popular among all classes of readers; 


400 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


but it was not known to be Cowper’s till it was added to his 
second volume. At Lady Austen’s suggestion, he also com¬ 
posed “ The Taskpromising, one day, to write if she would fur¬ 
nish the subject. “ Oh !” she is said to have replied, “ you can 
never be in want of a subject: you can write upon any:—write 
upon this sofa!” 

In 1784, he began his translation of Homer, and in the same 
year terminated his intercourse with Lady Austen, whose lively 
interest in the poet had excited a jealousy in the breast of Mrs. 
Unwin, who, feeling herself eclipsed, says Mr. Hayley, by the 
brilliancy of the poet’s new friend, began to fear her mental 
influence over him. Cowper now felt that he must either relin¬ 
quish his ancient friend, whom he regarded with the love of a 
child, or his new associate, w r hom he idolized with the affection 
of a sister, and whose heart and mind were peculiarly congenial 
to his own. Gratitude determined him how to act; and, with 
a resolution and delicacy, adds Mr. Hayley, that did the high¬ 
est honour to his feelings, he wrote an explanatory farewell 
letter to Lady Austen, which she lamented, when applied to by 
his biographer for a copy, that, in a moment of natural morti¬ 
fication, she had burnt. In 1785, appeared his second volume 
of poems, including The Task, Tirocinium, The Epistle to Jo¬ 
seph Hill, Esquire, and the diverting History of John Gilpin. 
The translation of his Homer, amid various interruptions, was 
continued at intervals, and was published in two volumes, quar¬ 
to, in 1791. During the composition of this work, it is said, 
he at first declined, as he had done in the progress of his other 
works, showing specimens to his friends; and when Mr. Unwin 
informed him that a gentleman wanted a sample, he humorous¬ 
ly replied, “ When I deal in wine, cloth, or cheese, I will give 
samples; but of verse, never. No consideration,” he added, 
“ would have induced me to comply with the gentleman’s de¬ 
mand, unless he could have assured me that his wife had longed.” 
Though the first edition was quickly disposed of, the general 
reception of his Homer was not such as to answer his expecta¬ 
tions. He, therefore began a revision of it; and about the same 
time meditated an edition of Milton’s works, and a new didactic 
poem, to be called “ The Four Ages.” His mental powers, how¬ 
ever, being again impaired by a relapse of his old malady, he 
became totally incapacitated from pursuing these and all other 


WILLIAM COWPER. 


401 


literary pursuits. In this situation he was visited by Lady Hes- 
keth, who paid him the same attention he had hitherto received 
from Mrs. Unwin, who was now in a state of second childhood, 
and as imbecile as the poet himself. In 1794, a pension of 
j£300 per annum was procured for him from government, 
through the influence of Earl Spencer; and shortly afterwards 
he was removed, together with Mrs. Unwin, by his friend and 
kinsman, the Rev. Dr. Johnson, to Dereham, in Norfolk. Here, 
in 1796, he lost Mrs. Unwin; and from 1797 to 1799 he com¬ 
pleted, by snatches, the revisal of his Homer, and was sensible 
enough to compose a few original verses, and to resume his cor¬ 
respondence with Lady Ilesketh. In the beginning of 1800, 
he exhibited symptoms of dropsy, which made such rapid progress 
that it terminated his existence on the following 25th of April. 
His remains were deposited in St. Edmund’s Chapel, in Dere¬ 
ham Church, where Lady Hesketh caused a marble tablet to be 
erected to his memory, on which were inscribed some elegant 
verses from Mr. Hayley’s pen. 

The whole figure and appearance of Cowper were interesting; 
it might be seen at first sight that he w T as what is called well- 
bred ; and even a momentary observer could not fail to perceive 
that he was a man of no ordinary mind. Like Pope and some 
others, lie was precocious in the display of talent, though it was 
not till he had attained the age of fifty that he wrote with a 
view to publication. His first poetical production is stated to 
have been a translation of a poem of Tibullus, made at the age 
of fourteen; but, as little more of his juvenile poetry has been 
preserved than the above, all the steps of his progress to that 
perfection which produced “ The Task,” cannot now be traced. It 
is to be regretted that the selfishness of Mrs. Unwin put an end 
to his intimacy with Lady Austen, as her conversation greatly 
enlivened his social hours, and embraced that variety of subject, 
which, more than any thing, tended to keep off his natural 
gloom. The slowness with which he composed his Homer, and 
his abandonment of some of his literary designs, may be at¬ 
tributed to other causes than mental imbecility. “ So long,” 
he says in one of his letters, “ as I am pleased with an em¬ 
ployment, I am capable of unwearied application, because my 
feelings are all of the intense kind: I never,” he adds, “received 
a little pleasure from any thing in my life; if I am. delighted, 
51 2 l 2 


402 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


it is in the extreme. The unhappy consequence of this temper¬ 
ament is, that my attachment to any occupation seldom outlives 
the novelty of it.” In Cowper, the virtues of the man and the 
genius of the poet were inseparable; in every thing he did, said, 
or wrote, his aim was the promotion of the highest interests of 
mankind,—the advancement of religion and morality. His 
biographers agree in ascribing to him a vigour of sentiment and 
a knowledge of human nature, scarcely equalled, and rarely, 
if ever, surpassed by any of the British poets. 

Fox, in speaking of “The Task,” says, that the author has, in 
a great degree, reconciled him to blank verse, and that there 
are few things superior to that poem in our language; while 
Gilbert Wakefield as vehemently condemns his Homer, and calls 
the beginning of the tenth Odyssey, the most calamitous speci¬ 
men of want of ear that ever came under his notice. Without 
doubt, the general effect of the work is bald and prosaic, but it 
exceeds Pope’s translation in fidelity and exactness. A writer 
in the Edinburgh Review, in comparing the merits of Pope and 
Cowper, says, “ Scarcely a particle of breath divine inspires the 
blank and frigid version of the latter; he is more correct than 
Pope in giving the mere sense of the original, but to its tone and 
spirit, he is, in a different manner, equally unfaithful.” The 
man of genius, however, (adds the same author,) the scholar, and 
the critic, the man of the world, and the moral and pious man, 
all found in the works of Cowper something to excite their sur¬ 
prise ; something to admire ; something congenial with their 
habits of taste, feeling, and judgment; and succeeding years of 
familiar intercourse with his writings have led posterity to con¬ 
template him as olie of the best of men, and most favoured of 
poets. 


JAMES HERVEY. 


403 


f 


JAMES HERVEY. 



N the 26 th of February, 1713-14. This cele¬ 
brated writer, the son of a clergyman, was 
born, at Hardingstone, near Northampton. 
At seven years of age, he was sent to the free 
grammar school of that city, where, it is said, 
his genius and memory would have made him 
a much greater proficient, but for the extra¬ 
ordinary whim of his teacher, who would allow 
no boy to learn faster than his own son. 

In 1731, he entered a student of Lincoln 
College, Oxford, where he continued to reside for 
bout seven years, but only proceeded to the degree 
B. A Among the books he read during this time 
were Keil’s Anatomy; Derham’s Physico-Theologico, 
And astro-Theology; and Spence’s Essay on Pope’s 
Odyssey, to which, he used to say, he owed more of his 
improvement of style and composition than to any other work 
he ever read. At the age of twenty-three, he entered into 
deacon’s orders, and being urged by his father to get a curacy 
in or near Oxford, that he might retain a small college exhibition 
of the value of about <£20 per annum, he declined, saying, 
“that he thought it unjust to retain it after he was in orders, 
as some other person might want its aid, to further his educa¬ 
tion.” He accordingly, in 1736, accepted the curacy of Hum¬ 
mer, in Hampshire, where he continued about a year, when he 
was invited to Stoke Abbey, in Devonshire, the seat of his 
friend, Paul Orchard, Esq.; during his residence with whom, 
he, in 1740, became curate of Bideford. Here, his stipend 
being small, he was so much beloved, that the parishioners in¬ 
creased it to <£60 a year, by an annual subscription; and offered 
to maintain him at their own expense, to prevent his dismissal 
by a new rector, who, however, deprived him of his curacy in 


404 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


1742. In the following year, lie became curate to his father, 
then holding the living of Weston Pavell, as well as that of 
Collingtree, to both of which he succeeded on the death of the 
former, in 1752. He accepted the two livings together, with 
much reluctance, and, on waiting upon the Bishop of Peter¬ 
borough, for institution, he said, “ I suppose your lordship will 
be surprised to see James Hervey come to desire your lordship 
to permit him to be a pluralist; but I assure you I do it to 
satisfy the repeated solicitations of my mother, and my sister, 
and not to please myself.” Our author had already established 
his literary reputation, by the publication of his celebrated 
Meditations, the first volume of which appeared in 1746, and 
the second in 1747. He appears to have formed the plan of 
this work during his residence in Devonshire, his “ Meditations 
among the Tombs” being suggested to him by a visit to the 
church-yard of Kilhampton, in Cornwall. 

After his accession to his father’s livings, he graduated M.A. 
at Clare Hall, Cambridge; and about the same time published 
“ Remarks on Lord Bolingbroke’s Letters on the Study and Use 
of History,” which, observes Simpson, in his Plea, “ contains 
many pious and satisfactory observations on the history of the 
Old Testament, especially on the writings of Moses.” 

In 1753, he published his Theron and Aspasio, in three 
volumes, octavo, the success of which nearly equalled that of 
his Meditations, whilst it brought him into a controversy with 
the famous Wesley, who opposed him on account of his Calvi- 
nistic sentiments. 

The life of this excellent man was now drawing to an end, 
which his great exertions in the pulpit and the study materially 
contributed to hasten. He died of a decline, after extreme suf¬ 
fering, which he bore with singular fortitude, on the 25th of 
December, 1758. 

The subject of our memoir was at once an elegant scholar, 
a learned divine, and a Christian, in the strict sense of the 
word. The bias of his mind may be collected from the follow¬ 
ing passage in a letter to a friend, a short time previous to his 
death:—“I have been,” he says, “too fond of reading every 
thing valuable and elegant that has been penned in our lan¬ 
guage ; and been peculiarly charmed with the historians, ora¬ 
tors, and poets of antiquity: but were I to renew my studies, I 


JAMES HERVEY. 


405 


would take my leave of those accomplished trifles: I would 
resign the delight of modern wits, amusements, and eloquence, 
and devote my attention to the Scriptures of Truth. I would 
sit with much greater assiduity at my divine Master’s feet, and 
desire to know nothing in comparison of Jesus Christ, and Him 
crucified.” 

His mode of preaching was peculiarly simple and impressive, 
and no minister ever took a more anxious interest in the spiritual 
welfare of his parishioners, at whose houses he was a frequent 
and familiar visitor. His generosity and bounty scarcely left 
him a sufficient sum for his own subsistence; the profits arising 
from the sale of his Meditations, which amounted to .£700, he 
devoted entirely to charitable purposes; and the little left by 
him at his death, he directed might be laid out in the purchase 
of clothing for the poor. 

In addition to the publications already mentioned, he was 
the author of several letters and sermons, all of which are to be 
found in the genuine edition of his works, in six volumes, octavo. 
He has been charged with carrying his Calvinistic notions to 
the verge of Antinomianism, with respect to the imputed right¬ 
eousness of Christ; but his writings on this subject have never 
been considered as seriously objectionable. His Meditations 
have furnished many of our poets with beautiful ideas; and, 
notwithstanding their somewhat too flowery style, will probably 
always retain their original popularity. 



406 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


CHARLES WESLEY. 



HARLES WESLEY was prematurely born 
on the eighteenth of December, 1708, at 
Epworth, in Lincolnshire. He appeared to 
be dead when he was born, neither crying, nor 
opening his eyes. He was wrapped in soft 
p* wool for several weeks, until the time when 
he should have been born, according to the 
usual course of nature, and then he both opened 
his eyes and cried. In common with all his bro¬ 
thers, he received the rudiments of his education 
at home from his pious and able mother. In 1718, 
he was sent to Westminster school, and placed under 
the care of his elder brother, Samuel, who gave great 
attention to his studies, and instilled his own high 
church principles into the sprightly and active student. 

When he had been some years at school, Garret Wesley, 
an Irish gentleman of large fortune, wrote to his father, and 
asked if he had any son named Charles; if so, he would make 
him his heir. For several years after this, money was regu¬ 
larly received for his education from a gentleman in London. 
One year, a gentleman, supposed to have been Garret Wesley 
himself, came to see him, talked long with him, and tried to 
induce him to accompany him to Ireland. Charles wrote to his 
father for advice. His father answered immediately, leaving 
the matter to his own choice. He chose to stay in England, 
and declined the flattering offer. This circumstance, John 
Wesley calls, in an allusion to it written shortly before his 
death, “ a fair escape.” It seems to have been the decision of 
a question on which hung the most important interest of Great 
Britain. For when Garret Wesley was thus disappointed, he 
turned to another of his kinsmen, Richard Colley, who became 


CHARLES WESLEY. 


407 


Richard Colley Wesley, heir to Garret’s wealth, and this gave 
him a position in the world which he was able to improve, until 
he became a member of parliament, and then a peer of the 
realm, under the title of Lord Mornington. He was the grand¬ 
father of the Marquis Wellesley, and of the Duke of Welling¬ 
ton. There can hardly be any doubt in human calculation, that 
without the advantages of wealth given to Richard Colley, by 
Charles Wesley’s refusal to leave England, that gentleman 
would never have been Lord Mornington ; the Duke of Welling¬ 
ton would never have been born, and the imperial sceptre of 
Napoleon might have still swayed the destinies of Europe. Such 
were the temporal interests depending upon the will of an im¬ 
petuous boy; how many now happy souls would never have been 
converted by his leaving Oxford, and the path he afterwards 
had, to go to Ireland, who can tell ? Truly, it is in the trifles 
of human life, that the pious mind can most clearly discern the 
workings of Divine Providence. 

In 1721, he was admitted a scholar of St. Peter’s, at West¬ 
minster, and in 1726, he was elected to Christ Church, in Ox¬ 
ford, where his brother John was Fellow of Lincoln College. 
He pursued his studies diligently, says his brother John, and 
pursued a regular, harmless life; but if I spoke to him about 
religion, he would answer, What, would you have me a saint all 
at once ? and would hear no more. John was then nearly three 
years his father’s curate, and when he came back to Oxford, in 
1729, he found that his brother was not only changed from his 
seeming thoughtlessness, but was in great earnest to save his 
soul, and acknowledged and despised as the leader of a class of 
pious young men, to whom was derisively affixed the name of 
Methodists. He was the first Methodist, and laid the founda¬ 
tion of that society, which has its members in every part of the 
world, and the establishment of which has been of so much im 
portance to the happiness of thousands. John Wesley soon be 
came the head of the little society, gave it a fixity of character, 
and extended its views beyond the merely mutual improvement 
of its members in knowledge and virtue. Soon after, Charles 
Wesley began to take pupils, and his father thus concludes a 
letter to him on the occasion, after commending his determina¬ 
tion to endeavour to form their minds to piety as well as learn¬ 
ing. “You are now fairly launched, Charles; hold up your 


408 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


head, and swim like a man; and when you cuff the wave be¬ 
neath you, say to it, much as another hero did, 

Carolum vehis, et Caroli fortunam,* 

But always keep your eye fixed above the pole star, and so God 
send you a good fortune through the troublesome sea of life, 
which is the hearty prayer of your loving father.” 

When John Wesley determined to go to Georgia, he per¬ 
suaded Charles, who loved him with his whole soul, to accom¬ 
pany him, and he engaged himself as secretary to Mr. Ogle¬ 
thorpe, and as secretary for Indian affairs ; and in this capacity 
he made the voyage. He was ordained deacon by Dr. Potter, 
Bishop of Oxford, and on the Sunday following, he received 
priest’s orders at the hands of Dr. Gibson, Bishop of London. 
He had exceedingly dreaded entering into holy orders, on ac¬ 
count of the vast responsibility of the office, but in this he was 
also influenced by his brother John, who knew better than any 
other, his worth and his talents. Being detained at Cowes 
while the vessel was preparing to sail, Charles preached several 
times, great crowds attending his ministry. Samuel Wesley, 
who was very much opposed to his going to Georgia, made use 
of this as a last argument, hoping that it plainly convinced 
Charles, that he needed not to go to America to convert sinners. 
The influence of John was paramount to every thing else, how¬ 
ever, and the brothers sailed to America together. Charles was 
appointed to Frederica, waiting an opportunity of preaching to 
the Indians, and there his correct and holy life, and his unspar¬ 
ing reproofs of the great vices of the colonists, made him many 
enemies. They not only hated him, but formed plans for ruin¬ 
ing him in the opinion of Mr. Oglethorpe, and forcing him, by 
continual acts of violence, to leave the colony. The sufferings 
he endured in consequence of their machinations, seem at 
this day incredible. Oglethorpe for a time sided with them, 
but finally saw and acknowledged his error, and did what he 
could to make amends for his conduct. He became very much 
enfeebled by disease, contracted from exposure and the cruel 
neglect he had borne, and this, with urgent public business, 
caused his return to England. He set sail in a poor leaky vessel, 
unseaworthy, with a captain who had made but few of the neces- 


* Thou carriest Charles, and Charles’ fortune. 



CHARLES WESLEY. 


409 


sary provisions for the passage. He drank nothing hut gin 
himself, and very naturally forgot to take a sufficient quantity 
of water, and in ten days after leaving Charleston, the ship’s 
company were put on short allowance, while a dangerous leak 
in the vessel rendered their situation in the greatest degree 
alarming. They were obliged to steer for Boston, which they 
contrived to reach after being forty days at sea. The hospital¬ 
ities of the good people of New England made him forget the 
sufferings he had endured in the South, but his sickness brought 
him very low. When he again set sail and reached England, 
he was received with the greatest joy by his friends, who wel¬ 
comed him as one from the dead. A report had been spread 
that the ship in which he had sailed from Charleston had been 
seen to sink at sea, and he called on one lady while she was in 
the act of reading an account of his death. 

In February, 1738, Peter Bohler arrived in England, and 
John Wesley, about the same time, returned from Georgia. This 
earnest-hearted stranger became acquainted with the two bro¬ 
thers, and while Charles assisted him in learning English, he 
pressed upon his teacher, and all who were willing to hear him, 
the necessity of conversion, prayer and faith. In a short time 
John Wesley was awakened to the subject, and received the new 
birth, and though Charles was so much offended at the new doc¬ 
trines that he left the room during a discussion between them 
concerning conversion—whether it was gradual or instantaneous 
—he himself soon became convinced that he had not the true 
faith which puts the believer in possession of the benefits and 
privileges of the gospel. When he knew his deficiency, he was 
earnest and constant in his efforts to supply it, and his prayer 
was soon heard. When he was satisfied that he too had been 
born again, he endeavoured to ground as many friends as 
he could in his own belief—salvation by faith, not an idle 
dead faith, but a faith that works by love, and is incessantly 
productive of al] good works and holiness. During John 
Wesley’s absence from England, on his visit to the Moravians, 
Charles was in ill health, and incapacitated from very arduous 
labours. There was a number of condemned felons in Newgate 
prison, however, to whose conversion he applied himself with 
the utmost zeal, and, he believed, not without success. When 
the day for their execution came, Mr. Wesley and two of his 
62 2 M 


410 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


friends got upon the cart with them. They were all cheerful, 
full of comfort, peace and triumph; firmly persuaded that 
Christ had died for them; had taken away their sins and waited 
to receive them into paradise. Mr. Wesley says he never saw 
such incredible indifference to dying. None showed any natural 
terror of death; no fear, or crying, or tears. They were 
turned off exactly at twelve o’clock. Not one struggled for 
life. Mr. Wesley spoke a few suitable words to the crowd, and 
returned, full of peace, and confident of the happiness of the 
departed felons. 

In the first part of his ministry, Charles Wesley was much 
alone; his brother being in Germany and Mr. Whitefield in 
America. But when the plan of itinerant preaching was adopt¬ 
ed by them, he entered heartily into it, and met with great 
success. On Kennington common, his congregations have been 
computed at ten thousand, and vast crowds in Moorfields listened 
to him with seriousness, and thousands were brought from the 
deep degradation of vice and misery to a vital concern for their 
eternal state. He always asked for the pulpit of the church 
in a place, but did not refrain from preaching when it was de¬ 
nied him. The multitudes who came to listen to him could not 
often be accommodated in any building; and sometimes, when 
the use of the church was granted him, he would stand in the 
window, and preach to the congregation, within and without. 

In Wales he once encountered much opposition from a phy¬ 
sician who appropriated some remarks in a sermon about Phari¬ 
sees to himself, and rose and left the church. He then drank 
freely of wine, united himself with a company of players, whose 
business Mr. Wesley’s preaching had ruined, and came back to 
the house to burn it down. One of the players managed to get 
into the room with a sword, and was in close proximity to Mr. 
Wesley, before he was discovered. He was secured with some 
trouble, and afterwards begged Mr. Wesley’s pardon, and w r as 
released at his desire. Leaving the house, Mr. Wesley walked 
with Mr. Wells through the mob of his enemies, who shrank 
from before his pious courage. He confined his labours to 
England, principally in the neighbourhood of London and Bris¬ 
tol, and to Wales, until the year 1747, when, in September, he 
went to Dublin. He had endured grievous persecutions in Eng¬ 
land and Wales, far greater, perhaps, than were ever experienced 


CHARLES WESLEY. 


411 


by bis brother or Mr. Whitefield. But in Ireland he met with 
a very different treatment. In Cork, whenever he appeared in 
the streets, the people pursued him with their blessings. The 
same favourable inclination was manifested all round the coun¬ 
try. “ Wherever we go,” says Mr. Wesley, «they receive us 
as angels of God. Were this to last, I would escape for my 
life to America.” 

In October, 1748, returning to England, his life was provi¬ 
dentially preserved. A gale was blowing, and he stood on deck 
talking to the captain, when the sail became loosened, and the 
small boat on deck got out of its place. The captain ordered 
his hands to restore things, and sent Mr. Wesley into the cabin, 
out of the way. He had scarcely got there before there was 
a cry, “ we have lost the mast.” A passenger ran to inquire 
into the disaster, and found that it was not the mast, but the 
poor master himself, "who had been knocked overboard. It is 
supposed the loose boat struck him as it was thrown about by 
the motion of the vessel. They were near the land, and the 
disaster threw the crew into such confusion that the vessel 
would have been stranded had not a passenger ran to the helm 
and averted the danger. This circumstance affected Mr. Wes¬ 
ley very seriously. He knelt down and prayed long and fer¬ 
vently. 

In April, 1749, he was married by his brother at Garth, in 
Wales, to Miss Sarah Gwynne, a pious, accomplished, and agree¬ 
able young lady. “It was a solemn day,” says John Wesley, 
“ such as became the dignity of a Christian marriage.” 

Five children were the fruit of this marriage, which was a 
really Christian union, replete with happiness. His marriage 
neither interrupted his labours nor interfered with his useful¬ 
ness. He was in London at the time of the famous earthquake, 
in February, 1750, preaching in the Foundery, which was so 
violently shaken that it was expected to fall. This calamity, 
with the predictions of its recurrence, made by the designing, 
found him much work. He laboured zealously to convert the 
consternation which brought many to knock at the door of the 
Foundery for admittance, in the belief that they were safer there 
than elsewhere, into a holy fear of their own evil courses. It 
was a time of mercy to many. Mr. Whitefield was in London 
about the same time, and preached with great effect to a multi- 


412 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


tude in Hyde Park, who had fled there to avoid the predicted 
overthrow of the city. 

The attempts which many made to bring about a separation 
of the Methodists from the established church gave great dis¬ 
comfort to Charles Wesley. He continued to preach till with¬ 
in a short time of his death, but his last tour, as an itinerant 
preacher, was made in the year 1756. After that time, he 
divided his time chiefly between London and Bristol. His 
conduct in thus changing his method of labouring, has been at¬ 
tributed to various causes, and, among others, to a diminution 
of zeal. This was not the fact. He was determinedly opposed 
to the attempt to make the Methodists an independent body, 
and this made the leading ministers, who wished it, inimical to 
him ; and to these were added nearly all the itinerant preachers, 
because he had openly avowed his opinion that many were ad¬ 
mitted into the connection in that capacity who were not quali¬ 
fied for the station. Numerous attempts were made to prejudice 
him with his brother John, of which he was fully aware, and he 
thought it better to retire than have frequent occasions of dif¬ 
ference, or an illiberal opposition. While he thus sought to 
put an end to the espionage which continually observed his 
words and actions, for purposes of misconstruction and mis¬ 
representation, he continued firmly attached to the Methodists, 
and laboured continually to avert the evils which he feared, and 
to promote the good of the societies. His affection for the church 
was as strong, he said, as ever; he clearly saw his calling, which 
was to live and die in her communion. This he was determined 
to do, and this he did, on the 29th of March, 1788, in the 
eightieth year of his age. He was buried, at his own desire, in 
Marylebone churchyard. The pall was supported by eight 
ministers of the church of England. 

His disposition was warm and lively; his friendships gene¬ 
rous and steady; his conversation pleasing, instructive, and 
cheerful; his perceptions of character quick and unerring; and 
his religion genuine, unaffected, and simple to severity. His 
preaching was exceedingly powerful, forcing conviction on the 
hearers, in spite of the most determined opposition. The 
Methodist connection is more indebted to him than to any other, 
on account of his unwearied labours, and great usefulness at the 
first formation of the societies, when every step was attended 


CHARLES WESLEY. 


413 


t 


with difficulty and danger, and especially on account of his ex¬ 
cellent hymns, still the ministers of instruction and comfort to 
thousands. “ The sweet singer of Methodism,” has inscribed 
upon his tombstone, the following appropriate lines, which he 
himself wrote on the death of one of his friends: 

With poverty of spirit blest, 

Rest, happy saint, in Jesus rest; 

A sinner saved, through grace forgiven, 

Redeem’d from earth to reign in heaven! 

Thy labours of unwearied love, 

By thee forgot, are crown’d above; 

Crown’d, through the mercy of thy Lord, 

With a free, full, immense reward! 


\ 




2 M 2 


414 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


# 

HUMPHREY PRIDEAUX. 



ORN at Padstow, in Cornwall, in 1648, re¬ 
ceived his education at Westminster, and 
Christ Church, Oxford, where his publication 
of the inscription, from the Arundel Marbles, 
under the title of Marmora Oxoniensia, pro¬ 
cured him the patronage of Lord Chancellor 
Finch; who, after Prideaux had taken orders, 
gave him a living, and a prebend in Norwich 
Cathedral. He subsequently became D. D., and 
obtained, among other preferments, that of the 
deanery of Norwich, in 1702, being the highest to 
which he was raised. Physical infirmity, however, 
brought on by an unskilful operation for the stone, 
alone prevented him from being promoted to a bishop¬ 
ric ; and, at the same time, induced him to resign all 
his livings, and to devote the remainder of his days to 
literature. He died on the 1st of November, 1724, leaving 
behind him, besides other theological works, his celebrated and 
oft reprinted one, entitled the “ Old and New Testament con¬ 
nected in the History of the Jews and neighbouring Nations.” 
Prideaux was no less respected for his virtue than his learning; 
he was often consulted on the affairs of the church; and the 
work last-mentioned justifies any deference that might have 
been paid to the opinion of its author. Dr. Prideaux’s “ Con¬ 
nection of the History of the Old and New Testament,” pub¬ 
lished in 1715 and 1717, in folio, has been one of the most 
widely circulated books in the English language, and it has still 
a peculiar value among several more recent works of a similar 
design. His “Life of Mahomet” has also obtained a wide 
circulation. 




EDWARD YOUNG. 


415 


EDWARD YOUNG. 



AS born at the rectory-house of his father, 
a clergyman, at Upham, near Winchester, in 
June, 1681. He received the first part of his 
education at the school at Winchester, where 
he remained until his nineteenth year, and in 
1703, he was entered an independent member 
of New College, Oxford. He subsequently re¬ 
moved to Corpus College; and, in 1708, he 
was nominated by Archbishop Tenison to a fel¬ 
lowship of All Souls, where he graduated B. C. L. 
in 1714, and, in 1719, D. C. L. Both as a poet 
^ and a scholar he had already distinguished himself 
at the university; but the morality of his conduct 
during the early part of his residence at college, more 
than one writer denies. His zeal, however, in the 
cause of religion, appears, upon the authority of Tindal, 
with whom he used to spend much of his time, to have been 
early roused. “The other boys,” says this Deist, or Atheist, 
“ I can always answer, because I always know whence they 
have their arguments, which I have read an hundred times; but 
that fellow, Young, is continually pestering me with something 
of his own.” 

One of Young’s earliest poetical efforts was a recommenda¬ 
tory copy of verses prefixed to Addison’s Cato, if we except a 
part of his poem on “The Last Day,” which appeared in “The 
Tatler,” and was probably finished as early as 1710. It was 
published in 1713, with a fulsome dedication to Queen Anne, 
and was shortly afterwards followed by his “Force of Religion, 
or Vanquished Love;” founded on the execution of Lady Jane 
Grey, and her husband, Lord Guildford. On the accession of 
King George the First, he flattered the monarch in an ode upon 
the queen’s death; and, in 1717, he accompanied to Ireland the 


416 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


profligate Duke of Wharton, whose father had been a friend 
and patron to Young. In 1719, his tragedy of Busiris was 
acted at Drury Lane, and was followed, in 1721, by “The Re¬ 
venge,” with a dedication to Wharton, which he afterwards, says 
Herbert Croft, his biographer in Johnson’s Lives of the Poets, 
took all the pains in his power to conceal from the world. 
Wharton appears, however, to have been a substantial benefac¬ 
tor of our author; for he not only did his utmost to advance 
him in the world by recommendation, but furnished him with 
the means of pursuing even a more ambitious course than 
Young aspired to. At the duke’s request and expense he stood 
a contested election for Cirencester; but being unsuccessful, his 
patron granted him an annuity, and he henceforth determined 
on studying for the church. 

He continued, however, his devotion to the muses; and, in 
1728, published the last of six satires, for which, under the title 
of “ The Universal Passion,” Wharton gave him ,£3000. About 
the same time he entered into holy orders, and was appointed 
chaplain to George the Second; and in 1730, he was presented 
by his college to the rectory of Welwyn, in Hertfordshire. In 
1732, he married Lady Elizabeth Lee, widow of Colonel Lee, 
and daughter of the Earl of Lichfield; she died in 1740, leav¬ 
ing him one son and a step-daughter, whose death, in conjunc¬ 
tion with that of her husband, Lord Temple, he laments in his 
Night Thoughts, under the names of Philander and Narcissa. 
It was in consequence of the melancholy reflections occasioned by 
these family losses, that Young composed his “Night Thoughts;” 
respecting which we will only, in this place, remark, that the 
character of Lorenzo does not appear to have had allusion to 
his son. This is most satisfactprily proved, by the authority 
just cited, notwithstanding the assertions of most of the biogra¬ 
phers of our author to the contrary. The “Night Thoughts” 
occupied him from 1741 to 1746, and in the interval he produced 
other pieces, both in poetry and prose. In 1753, his tragedy 
of “The Brothers,” written in 1728, appeared upon the stage for 
the benefit of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel; 
and not realizing the profits anticipated, he made up the sum 
he intended, which was £1000, from his own pocket. In 1754, 
he completed his “Centaur not Fabulous, in six Letters to a 
Friend on the Life in Vogue,” a publication in prose; as was 


EDWARD YOUNG. 


417 


also his “ Conjectures on Original Composition,” which appeared 
in 1759. In 1761, he was appointed clerk of the closet to the 
princess dowager, the only preferment he ever received after 
his taking orders; though, it seems, he was allowed by George 
the Second a pension of <£200 a year. A poem, entitled Re¬ 
signation, was the last of his works, of the chief of which he 
published an edition in four octavo volumes, a short time previ¬ 
ous to his death, which took place on the 12th of April, 1765. 
He left, with the exception of £1000 to his housekeeper, and a 
smaller legacy, the whole of his fortune to his only son, Frede¬ 
rick ; and, in his will, ordered all his manuscripts to be burnt. 

Young lived and died a disappointed man ; for, notwithstand¬ 
ing his elevated sentiments and professed love of retirement, he 
had not given up hopes of advancement in the church until a 
very short period before his death. As a Christian and divine, 
however, his conduct was exemplary, if we except his harsh 
treatment of his son, whom, in consequence of his expulsion 
from college for misconduct, he refused ever afterwards to see. 
He was pleasant in conversation and extremely polite, and pos¬ 
sessed sensibilities highly creditable to him, if the following 
anecdote may be relied on :—While preaching in his turn, one 
Sunday, at St. James’s, he found his efforts to gain the atten¬ 
tion of the congregation so ineffectual, that he leaned back in 
the pulpit and burst into a flood of tears. The turn of his 
mind was naturally solemn: he spent many hours in a day 
walking among the tombs in his own churchyard; and whilst 
engaged in writing one of his tragedies, the Duke of Wharton 
sent him a human skull with a candle fixed in it, as the most 
congenial and appropriate present he could make him. Not¬ 
withstanding, however, a certain gloominess of temper, he was 
fond of innocent sports and amusements, and instituted an 
assembly and a bowling-green in his parish. Among other in¬ 
stances of his wit are the following:—Voltaire happening to 
ridicule Milton’s allegorical personages of Sin and Death, Young 
thus addressed him:— 

Thou art so witty, profligate and thin, 

Thou seem’st a Milton, with his Death and Sin. 

As an author, Young’s fame rests chiefly upon his tragedy of 
“TheRevenge,” and his “NightThoughts,” which, Spence says r 
were composed by the author either at night or when he was on 
53 


418 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


horseback. His Satires, however, must not be forgotten : their 
author, says Johnson, has the gayety of Horace without his 
laxity of numbers, and the morality of Juvenal with greater 
variation of images. Swift observed of them, that had they 
been more merry or severe, they would have been more gene¬ 
rally pleasing; because mankind are more apt to be pleased with 
ill-nature and mirth, than with solid sense and instruction. In 
his “Night Thoughts,” Young exhibits entire originality of style, 
elevation of sentiment, grandeur of diction, and beauty of ima¬ 
gery, accompanied with an extensive knowledge of men and 
things, and a profound acquaintance with the feelings of the 
human heart. A gloominess and severity of thought, however, 
and a style occasionally tumid and bombastic, detract from the 
pleasure they otherwise afford, and are apt to terrify rather than 
persuade the mind of the reader into a belief of those divine 
truths which, in this sublime production, are so admirably 
argued. 


ISAAC WATTS. 


419 


ISAAC WATTS. 



SAAC WATTS was born on the*17th of July, 
1674, at Southampton; where his father, who 
had previously been imprisoned for non-con¬ 
formity, at the latter part of his life kept 
a boarding-school. Isaac was the eldest of 
nine children. From his earliest years, he 
displayed great avidity for learning, and before 
he could speak plain, whenever any money was 
given to him, he would carry it to his mother and 
say, as well as he could, “A book! a book! Buy 
a book !” It is reported that he almost “lisped in 
numbers.” On one occasion, his mother having 
chastised him for addressing her in rhyme, he uncon¬ 
sciously repeated his offence in imploring her forgive¬ 
ness. From this time, she encouraged his natural 
predilection to verse-making, and gave him a small gra¬ 
tuity whenever his lines excited her approbation. Having 
presented him with a farthing, for one of his childish efforts, he 
soon afterwards brought her, it is said, the following couplet: 

I write not for a farthing; but to try 
How I your farthing poets can outvie. 


He studied Latin under his father, and Greek and Hebrew 
at the free-school of his native town. Some liberal persons 
were so pleased with his alacrity in learning, as to propose rais¬ 
ing a fund for his maintenance at the university; to which, 
however, having resolved not to abandon the dissenters, he de¬ 
clined proceeding; and completed his education at an academy 
in London, kept by a non-conformist divine, named Eowe. One 
of his schoolfellows was Hughes, afterwards a dramatist of some 
celebrity, whom he endeavoured, but without effect, to wean 
from his attachment to the stage. 

In 1693, he became a communicant of Rowe’s congregation, 


420 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


and soon distinguished himself by his devotional ardour. He 
continued to study with great zeal; and, about this period, filled 
a large volume with Latin dissertations, which, according to 
Johnson, displayed much philosophical and theological know¬ 
ledge. He amused himself, occasionally, by poetical composi¬ 
tion, in Latin and English. A copy of verses, which he ad¬ 
dressed to his brother, are reputed to he remarkably elegant; 
and Johnson says that his diction, although not always pure, 
was copious and splendid; but “some of his odes,” as the same 
critic remarks^ “ are deformed by the Pindaric folly then pre¬ 
vailing ; and are written with such neglect of all metrical rules, 
as is without example among the ancients.” In order to impress 
the contents of such books as he admired upon his memory, he 
is said to have abridged them. He was likewise in the habit 
of amplifying the system of one author, by supplements from 
another; also, to write an account, on the margin, or blank 
leaves, which he introduced for the purpose, of the distinguish¬ 
ing characteristics of every important book he perused; object¬ 
ing to what he deemed questionable, and illustrating or confirm¬ 
ing what in his opinion was correct; a practice which he 
subsequently recommended all students to adopt. 

At the age of twenty, he returned to Southampton, and passed 
the following two years in study and devotional retirement. 
He then became tutor to the son of Sir John Hartopp; and, on 
his birthday, in 1698, preached his first sermon to Dr. Chaun- 
cey’s congregation, in Mark Lane, to whom he had been chosen 
assistant. On the death of his principal, he was offered, and 
accepted, the succession; but was incapacitated for a long pe¬ 
riod from performing his pastoral duties, by a severe fit of ill¬ 
ness, from which he was slowly recovering, when he received an 
invitation to take up his abode at the residence of Sir Thomas 
Abney, a London alderman; in whose family he continued 
during the remainder of his life, on such a footing, as Johnson 
remarks, that all notions of patronage and dependence were 
overpowered by the perception of reciprocal benefits. 

The greater part of his time was now occupied in composition, 
but he continued to preach until he was nearly seventy years 
of age; and, in spite of many natural disadvantages, acquired 
considerable reputation as a pulpit orator. The University of 
Aberdeen conferred upon the degree of D. D., on account of 


ISAAC WATTS. 


421 


the excellency of some of his works; among which, those on 
“Logic, and the Improvement of the Mind,” deserve especial 
praise. Although, in his well-known Psalms and Hymns, he is 
said to have “only done best what nobody has done well,” yet 
their popularity is so great, that, for many years past, it is com¬ 
puted that no less than fifty thousand copies of them are printed 
annually in Great Britain and America. 

In addition to the foregoing productions, he published several 
sermons and controversial tracts; “ Lyric Poems;” “Philosophical 
Essays;” “An Elementary Treatise on Astronomy and Geogra¬ 
phy';” “A Discourse on Education;” and “A Brief Scheme of 
Ontology.” The profits of his works, as well as two-thirds of 
his slender emoluments as a pastor, were devoted to benevolent 
purposes; and so exemplary was his character, in every respect, 
that he appears to have been beloved and admired by nearly 
all the virtuous and learned among his contemporaries. Shortly 
before his death, which took place on the 25th of November, 
1748, he observes to a friend: “ I remember an aged minister 
used to say, < that the most learned and knowing Christians, 
when they come to die, have only the same plain promises of 
the gospel for their support as the common and unlearned.’ 
And so,” added he, “ I find it. The plain promises of the gos¬ 
pel are my support; and I bless God that they are plain pro¬ 
mises, and do not require much labour and pains to understand 
them; for I can do nothing now, but look into my Bible for 
some promise to support me, and live upon that.” 

It has lately been asserted, and it appears by a letter in 
his own handwriting, that, towards the close of his life, 
the doctrine of the Holy Trinity, as generally understood, 
had ceased to be a portion of his creed; and that, a short 
time before his death, he revised his Psalms and Hymns, so 
as to render them wholly unexceptionable to every Christian 
professor. He is said to have been one of the first of those who 
taught the dissenting preachers to court the attention of their 
hearers by the beauties of language. “In the pulpit,” says 
Dr. Johnson, “though his low stature, which very little ex¬ 
ceeded five feet, graced him with no advantages of appearance, 
yet the gravity, and propriety of his utterance made his dis¬ 
courses very efficacious. Such was his flow of thoughts, and 
such his promptitude of language, that, in the latter part of his 

2 N ’ 


422 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


life, he did not precompose his cursory sermons, but, having 
adjusted the heads and sketched out some particulars, trusted 
for success to his extemporary powers.” 

“Few men,” says the same writer, speaking of Dr. Watts, 
“have left such purity of character, or such monuments of 
laborious piety. He has provided instruction for all ages,— 
from those who are lisping their first lessons, to the enlightened 
readers of Malebranche and Locke; he has left neither corpo¬ 
real nor spiritual nature unexamined; he has taught the art of 
reasoning, and the science of the stars. His character, there¬ 
fore, must be formed from the multiplicity and diversity of his 
attainments, rather than from any single performance; for 
though it would not be safe to claim for him the highest rank 
in any single denomination of literary dignity; yet, perhaps, 
there was nothing in which he would not have excelled, if he 
had not divided his powers to different pursuits.” 

It is related of him, that he addressed the following im¬ 
promptu to a stranger, by whom, on being pointed out by a 
companion as “ the great Dr. Watts,” he had been designated 
in a whisper as “a very little fellow:”— 

“Were I so tall, to reach the pole, 

Or grasp the ocean with a span, 

I must be measured by my soul; 

The mind’s the standard of the mam” 


CHARLES CHAUNCY. 


423 


CHARLES CHAUNCY. 



RESIDENT of Harvard College, who is 
styled in the Magnalia, Cadmus Americanus, 

; was born in Hertfordshire, educated in the 
school at Westminster, and at the university 
of Cambridge. He. there took the degree of 
B. D. Being intimately acquainted with Arch¬ 
bishop Usher, one of the finest scholars in 
Europe, he had more than common advantages 
to expand his mind, and make improvements in 
literature. A more learned man than Mr. Chauncy 
was not to be found among the fathers of New 
England. He had been chosen Hebrew professor 
at Cambridge, by the heads of both houses, and ex¬ 
changed this branch of instruction to oblige Df. Wil¬ 
liams, vice-chancellor of the university. He was well 
skilled in many oriental languages, but especially the 
Hebrew, which he knew by very close study, and by conversing 
with a Jew, who resided at the same house. 

He was also an accurate Greek scholar, and was made pro¬ 
fessor of this language when he left the other professorship.. 
In Leigh’s “Critica Sacra,” there is a Latin address to the author 
by a friend, C. C., who is called Vir doctissimus , &c. It is a 
commendation of the work in a handsome style. This uncom¬ 
mon scholar became a preacher, and was settled at Ware. He 
displeased Archbishop Laud, by opposing the Book of Sports, 
and reflecting upon the discipline of the church. In Rushforth’s 
Collections, there is this passage: “Mr. Chauncy, using some 
expressions in his sermons which were construed to his disad¬ 
vantage, ex. g. That idolatry was admitted into the church; 
that the preaching of the gospel would be suppressed; that there 
is as much atheism, popery, Arminianism and heresy crept in, 
&c.” This being viewed as a design to raise a fear among the 




424 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


people, that some alteration of religion would ensue, he was 
questioned in the High Commission; and, by order of that court, 
the cause was referred to the Bishop of London, being his ordi¬ 
nary, who ordered him to make a submission in Latin. 

This worthy man came over to New England, in 1638, arriv¬ 
ing at Plymouth, Jan. 1st. 

He was soon after ordained at Scituate. One thing is worth 
mentioning, to show the spirit of the man, and the quaint manner 
of expression then in use. His text was, Prov. ix. 3: Wisdom 
hath sent forth her maidens , and alluding to his compliance 
with the High Commission court, he said with tears, “Alas! 
Christians, I am no maiden , my soul has been defiled with false 
worship; how wondrous is the free grace of the Lord Jesus 
Christ , that I should still be employed among the maidens of 
wisdom /” When a stop was put to the Laudean persecution, 
he was invited back by his former people at Ware; and it was 
his intention to spend the remainder of his life in his native 
country. At this time the chair of the president was vacant at 
Harvard College. He was requested to accept it; and for a 
number of years he performed the duties of that office with 
honour to himself, and to the reputation of that seminary of 
learning. “ How learnedly he conveyed all the liberal arts to 
those that sat under his feet, how constantly he expounded the 
Scriptures to them in the college hall, how wittily he moderated 
their disputations and other exercises, how fluently he expressed 
himself unto them, with Latin of a Terentian phrase, in all his 
discourses, and how carefully he inspected their manners, will 
never be forgotten by many of our most worthy men, who were 
made such by their education under him.” When he made his 
oration on his inauguration, he concluded it thus, “Doctiorem, 
certe prsesidem, et huic oneri ac stationi multis modis aptiorem, 
vobis facile licet in venire; sed amantiorem, et vestri Iboni studi- 
osiorem, non invenietis.” 

He was very industrious, and usually employed his morning 
hours in study or devotion. He constantly rose at four o’clock, 
winter and summer. In the morning he expounded a chapter, 
in the Old Testament, to the students assembled in the chapel; 
-and in the evening expounded a passage in the New Testament. 
Every Sunday he preached a sermon, instead of the morning 
•exposition. Yet with all his zeal, attention to his business and 


CHARLES CHAUNCY. 


425 


to his private studies, with his amazing application to every 
thing that was before him, he lived to be famous, and preached 
to much acceptance, at an age to which few reach, and they 
complain, “their strength is labour and sorrow.” When his 
friends advised him to remit his public labours, he answered, 
“ Oportet imperato mori stantem.” 

At length, on the commencement of 1771, he made a solemn 
address, a kind of valedictory oration; and having lived to 
some good purpose, he prepared to die in peace, like a good ser¬ 
vant who expected his reward. He died, the end of this year, 
aged 82, having been about sixteen years pastor of the church 
in Scituate, and seventeen years president of Harvard College. 

He was a man very hasty in his temper: of this he was sen¬ 
sible, and took great pains to govern it. 

President Oakes, who was minister of the church in Cambridge, 
and succeeded him as head of the same literary society, preached 
his funeral sermon, and makes some apology for the quickness 
of his temper,—“ the mention thereof was to be wrapped up in 
Elijah’s mantle.” 

President Chauncy left six sons, all of whom were educated 
at Harvard College. They were all preachers. Some of them 
very learned divines. Dr. Mather says, they were all eminent 
physicians, as their father was before them. In a new country, 
where there are no physicians, a minister, who is a scientific man, 
may render himself eminently useful if able to practise physic; 
but we are not of the opinion of this gentleman that there Ought 
to be no distinction between physic and divinity. One man had 
better not be engaged in more than his own profession. He may 
be learned in one thing, and superficial in another—a learned 
theologian and a quack doctor, ,as we have seen in modern 
times.* 


* For this and the two following notices we ai'e indebted to Eliot. 


64 


2n2 



426 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


CHARLES CHAUNCY. 



ASTOR of the first church in Boston, was a 
great-grandson of President Chauncy, and 
had much of the genius and spirit of his an¬ 
cestor. He was born, January 1,1705. His 
father, the youngest son of the Rev. Isaac 
Chauncy, Berry street, settled in Boston, as 
a merchant. Charles was only seven years old 
when his father died; but had friends, who were 
disposed to give him every advantage of education. 
At twelve years old he was sent to Harvard Col¬ 
lege ; was graduated, 1721, and considered as one of 
the best scholars who had ever received the honours 
of that seminary. 

It afforded great pleasure to wise and good men of 
those times, to see a descendant of that president who 
had done so much honour to New England come into 
life with such high recommendations; and their hopes were 
highly gratified when he made divinity his study. As soon as 
Mr. Wadsworth was removed from the first church, to preside at 
Cambridge, the eyes of the people were fixed upon this young 
man, and he was associated with Mr. Foxcroft in the work of 
the ministry. He was ordained, 1727. Mr. Foxcroft and he 
were colleague pastors for about forty years. After the death 
of his colleague, he performed the whole parochial duty nearly 
ten years. In June, 1778, the Rev. Mr. John Clark was settled 
with him, whom he treated as a son, and who was always sensi¬ 
ble of his paternal regards. 

Dr. Chauncy was one of the greatest divines of New England; 
no one except President Edwards, and the late Dr. Mayhew, 
has been so much known among the literati of Europe, or 
printed more books on theological subjects. He took great 
delight in studying the Scriptures. Feeling the sacred obliga- 



CHARLES CHAUNCY. 


427 


tions of morality, he impressed them upon the minds of others 
in the most rational and evangelical manner. When he preached 
upon the faith of the gospel, he reasoned of righteousness, tem¬ 
perance and a judgment to come. It was said that he wanted 
the graces of delivery, and taste in composition. But it was 
his object to exhibit the most sublime truths in simplicity of 
speech, and he never, therefore, studied to have his periods 
polished, or his style adorned with rhetorical figures. His 
favourite authors were, Tillotson of the Episcopal church, and 
Baxter among the Puritans. For he preferred the rich vein of 
sentiment in the sermons of the English divines, to that tinsel 
of French declamation so fashionable in our modern way of 
preaching. Upon some occasions, however, Dr. Chauncy could 
raise his feeble voice, and manifest a vigour and animation 
which would arrest the attention of the most careless hearer, 
and have a deeper effect than the oratory which is thought by 
many to be irresistibly persuasive : at all times, he was argu¬ 
mentative and perspicuous, and made an admirable practical 
use of the sentiments he delivered. 

But it is as an author we are chiefly to view Dr. Chauncy in 
this biographical sketch. His clear head, his quick conception, 
and comprehensive view of every subject enabled him to write 
with ease and propriety. However quick, and sudden, and un¬ 
guarded in his expressions when discussing things in conversa¬ 
tion, he reasoned coolly in all his controversial writings. His 
ideas were so well arranged, and he had such a command of 
them, that he managed every subject with equal candour, liber¬ 
ality, fairness, and skill. In the episcopal controversy he 
obtained great celebrity. He first began this in a ^ sermon 
upon the validity of presbyterian ordination,” preached at the 
Dudleian lecture, at Cambridge, 1762. In 1767 he wrote his 
remarks upon a sermon of the Bishop of Llandaff. In 1771 he 
printed a complete view of episcopacy in 44 the two first centuries.” 
Besides these, he had a particular controversy upon the subject 
of the American episcopate. He wrote 44 An Appeal to the Public 
answered in behalf of Non-episcopal Churches,” when Dr. Chand¬ 
ler of Elizabethtown, offered his 44 Appeal to the Public,” in 
favour of episcopal churches. To this Dr. Chandler wrote an 
answer, styled, 44 The Appeal defended,” &c. Dr. Chauncy made 


428 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


a reply to “ The Appeal defended,” and to this Dr. Chandler also 
replied in another large pamphlet. 

In the Whitefieldian controversy, Dr. Chauncy discovered 
more zeal than in his other works. In 1742, and 1743, he 
published a “sermon on the various gifts of ministers;” one 
upon “ enthusiasm,” and another on the “ outpourings of the 
Holy Ghost;” he also printed an “account of the French pro¬ 
phets,” and “Seasonable Thoughts upon the State of Religion.” 
At the time of the great revival of religion, there were certain 
things of a dangerous tendency mingled with it, .which the Dr. 
saw fit to correct. It makes an octavo volume in five parts, and 
by the list of subscribers, we find he was encouraged by many 
worthy ministers who differed from him in their doctrinal senti¬ 
ment's. His other large works are, “ Twelve Sermons on Season¬ 
able and Important Subjects,” chiefly on justification, in opposi¬ 
tion to the opinion of Robert Sandiman, 1765; the “Mystery 
hid from Ages, or the Salvation of all Men ;” and “ Dissertations 
upon the Benevolence of the Deity;” these were printed in 1784, 
and the next year he printed a volume “ On the Fall of Man and 
its Consequences.” 

In 1742, he received his diploma from the university of Edin¬ 
burgh, the first from that seminary to an American divine. 
He was also one of the London board of commissioners for pro¬ 
pagating the gospel among the Indians; and a corresponding 
member of the board in Scotland. His health, cheerfulness, 
activity and the powers of his mind continued to old age. 
He died February 10, 1787. Mr. Clarke preached his funeral 
sermon. 


EZRA STILES. 


429 


EZRA STILES. 



ZRA Stiles, President of Yale College, was 
the son of the Rev. Isaac Stiles of North 
Haven, Connecticut. He entered college in 
1742, and was distinguished among the stu¬ 
dents for his bright genius, his intellectual 
accomplishments, his moral virtues, and the 
suavity of his manners. When he received the 
honours of the seminary in New Haven, in 1746, 
he was esteemed one of the greatest scholars it 
had ever produced. He first commenced his course 
of life with the study and practice of the law. He 
afterwards thought it his duty to preach the gospel; 
and settled at Newport, as pastor of the second church, 
where he continued from 1755 to 1776. During this, 
and several succeeding years, the enemy were in posses¬ 
sion of Newport; and the inhabitants of the town scat¬ 
tered. Dr. Stiles was solicited to. preach in several places, but 
he accepted the invitation from the church at Portsmouth to 
remove and settle with them. In this place he was universally 
admired. He has left acknowledgments of the kind attention 
of this people; they indulged a pride in the relation which sub¬ 
sisted between them. They thought him the most learned man 
of the age, were willing to hear very long sermons, some of them 
very critical disquisitions; because they flowed from the lips of 
Dr. Stiles. There were many polite families in the place. 
The doctor was a gentleman in his manners. His mildness, con¬ 
descension, fluency in conversation, entertaining and instructive 
mode of giving his opinion, endeared him to those who felt a 
reverence for his character. He had a kind of familiar inter¬ 
course which was very pleasing to all classes of people, especially 
the rising generation. He would excite their emulation and 
make them think favourably of themselves. Hence some have 


430 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


called him flatterer, which was not the case. His candid spirit, 
and a disposition to view every person in the best light, and to 
put the best construction upon every action, made him speak 
and act as though he coveted the good opinion of others, by 
addresses to their vanity. But his acquaintance knew where 
to trace the cause. They had as high an opinion of his inte¬ 
grity as of his charity and affability. His private diary discovers 
his sincerity. In this he celebrates the virtues and accomplish¬ 
ments of persons who could make no return. He might betray 
want of judgment, in some instances, but cannot be accused of 
paying empty compliments; he certainly had a greater know¬ 
ledge of books than of mankind. 

In 1778, he was chosen president of Yale College, to the 
great disappointment of the Portsmouth church. They wished 
to fix him as their pastor. But this election gave pleasure to 
the friends of science. The plain language of Dr. Chauncy ex¬ 
pressed the wish of the public, while it declared the opinion of 
the Boston association : “ I know of none,” said he, “but who 
rejoice at the election to the presidency, and unite in the opinion 
that you are loudly called to accept the appointment.” On 
the 8th of July, 1778, he was inducted into the office. In this 
conspicuous orb he shone with uncommon lustre a number of 
years, was an honour to the college and his country, and left a 
name worthy of everlasting remembrance. He died on the 12th 
of May, 1795, aged 68. 

His character is delineated in the public papers, and in seve¬ 
ral sermons; memoirs have also been printed by Dr. Holmes, 
in an octavo volume, entitled “ Life of President Stiles,” which 
is a very interesting and very useful work, containing many en¬ 
tertaining anecdotes, biographical sketches, and. much literary 
information, besides a minute and very just account of the presi¬ 
dent. Dr. Stiles had every literary honour which his country 
could bestow upon him, was a member of many learned societies 
abroad, and was the intimate friend and correspondent of the 
first characters in Europe and America. His publications are 
not numerous. They are known in the learned world, and con¬ 
sist of philosophical essays and historical narratives,* but 
chiefly sermons and theological tracts. 


* See Dr. Holmes’s book. 



PHILIP DODDRIDGE. 


431 


PHILIP DODDRIDGE. 



HILIP DODDRIDGE, the twentieth child 
of an oilman, in London, whose father had 
been ejected from the rectory of Shepperton 
by the act of uniformity, was born on the 
26th of June, 1702. For some hours after 
his birth, he exhibited no signs of life; and 
his relatives doubted the possibility of his sur¬ 
viving the usual perils of infancy. His health 
continued to be so remarkably delicate through 
life, that on every recurrence of his birthday, 
after he had arrived at years of discretion, he ex¬ 
pressed his astonishment at having been so long 
preserved. His mother taught him some portion of 
Scripture history, before he could read, by means of 
the figured Dutch tiles which ornamented the chimney 
of her apartment. He became an orphan at an early 
age, and his guardian basely dissipated the little fortune which 
his father had bequeathed him; so that, while yet a mere boy, 
he found himself utterly destitute. At this time, he was study¬ 
ing at a private school at St. Alban’s; and, fortunately, his 
application and pious deportment had attracted the notice of 
Dr. Clarke, a dissenting minister of that place, who kindly 
charged himself with the conduct and expense of his further 
education. 4 

In 1716, he began to keep a diary, in which he regularly 
accounted for every hour of his time. It was his custom, at 
this period, although only fourteen years of age, to visit the 
poor, and discourse with them on religious subjects, occasionally 
administering to their necessities out of his own slender allow¬ 
ance. In 1718, he went to reside with his sister, at Ongar, in 
Essex ; and his uncle, who was steward to the Duke of Bedford, 
soon afterwards procured him the notice of some members of 




432 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


that nobleman's family. The duchess liberally offered to sup¬ 
port him at the university, and to procure him preferment in 
the church, if she should live until he had taken orders; but 
Doddridge felt compelled to decline this kind proposal, on 
account of his scruples as to the thirty-nine articles. In the 
attainment of his favourite object, that of becoming a dissenting 
preacher, he met with serious obstacles. “ I waited,” he says, 
“on Dr. Edmund Calamy, to beg his advice and assistance, that 
I might be brought up a minister, which was always my great 
desire. He gave me no encouragement in it, but advised me 
to turn my thoughts to something else.” 

He received this advice with great concern, but resolving 
“to follow Providence, and not to force it,” he was*soon after¬ 
wards about to embrace an advantageous opportunity of enter¬ 
ing upon the study of the law; but before coming to a final 
resolution on the subject, he devoted one morning to earnest 
solicitation for guidance from the Almighty; and while thus 
engaged, a letter was brought to him from Dr. Clarke, in 
which his benefactor offered to advance him to the pastoral office. 
Regarding this communication, to use his own words, “almost 
as an answer from Heaven,” he hastened to St. Alban’s; 
whence, after passing some time with his generous friend, he 
removed, in October, 1719, to a dissenting academy, kept by 
Mr. John Jennings, at Kibworth, and afterwards at Hinckley, 
in Leicestershire, where he pursued his studies with extraordi¬ 
nary diligence and success; being not only ardent, but admi¬ 
rably methodical in his pursuit of knowledge. The notes which 
he made on Homer, it is said, would be sufficient to fill a very 
large volume; and he enriched an interleaved copy of the Bible 
with a vast quantity of extracts and observations, elucidatory 
of the text, from the works of many eminent divines. While 
thus occupied, he found, as tie states, “that an hour spent every 
morning in private prayer and meditation gave him spirit and 
vigour for the business of the day, and kept his temper active, 
patient, and calm.” 

Among his private papers, written about this period, was a 
solemn pledge to devote himself, his time, and his abilities, to 
the service of religion, (which it appears he read over once a 
week, to remind him of his duty,) and a set of rules for his 
general guidance. By these, he enforced upon himself the 


PHILIP DODDRIDGE. 


433 


necessity of rising early; of returning solemn thanks for the 
mercies of the night, and imploring Divine aid through the busi¬ 
ness of the day; of divesting his mind, while engaged in prayer, 
of every thing else, either external or internal; of reading the 
Scriptures daily; of never trifling with a book with which he 
had no business ; of never losing a minute of time, or incurring 
any unnecessary expense, so that he might have the more to 
spend for God; of endeavouring to make himself agreeable and 
useful, by tender, compassionate, and friendly deportment; of 
being very moderate at meals; and of never delaying any thing, 
unless he could prove that another time would be more fit than 
the present, or that some other more important duty required 
his immediate attention. 

In July, 1722, being then in the twentieth year of his age, 
he began his ministerial labours as preacher to a small congre¬ 
gation at Kibworth, where he describes himself, in answer to a 
friend who had condoled with him on being almost buried alive, 
as freely indulging in those delightful studies which a favour¬ 
able Providence had made the business of his life. “ One day,” 
added he, “passeth away after another, and I only know that 
it passeth pleasantly with me.” 

In 1727, he was chosen assistant preacher at Market Har- 
borough, and received invitations to accept other more import¬ 
ant pastoral stations, which, however, he declined. In 1729, 
by the solicitation of Dr. Watts and others, but with some 
reluctance, he formed an establishment for the education of 
young men who were designed for the ministry. The dissenters 
of Northampton soon afterwards earnestly solicited him to be¬ 
come their pastor; but he refused to quit his congregation, 
dreading, as he states, to engage in more business than he was 
capable of performing; and, on a repetition of their request, 
preached a sermon to them from the following text:—“And 
when he would not be persuaded, we ceased, saying, the will of 
the Lord be done.” (Acts xxi. 14.) On returning from chapel, 
he passed through a room of the house where he lodged, in 
which a child was reading to his mother. “ The only words I 
heard distinctly,” says Doddridge, “were these:—‘And as thy 
days, so shall thy strength be.’ Still I persisted in my refusal.” 

His resolution was, however, at length overcome, and he 
removed to Northampton on the 24th of December, 1729. His 
55 2 0 


434 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ordination, with the usual ceremonies, took place in March, 1730; 
and, in the following December, he married a lady named Maris. 
On this occasion, he drew up the following rules for his conduct 
as a husband:—“It shall be my daily care to keep up the spirit 
of piety in my conversation with my wife; to recommend her 
to the Divine blessing; to manifest an obliging, tender disposi¬ 
tion towards her; and particularly to avoid every thing which 
has the appearance of pettishness, to -which, amidst my various 
cares and labours, I may in some unguarded moments be liable.” 

In the year of his ordination and marriage, he published a 
treatise, entitled “ Free Thoughts on the most Probable Means 
of Reviving the Dissenting Interest, occasioned by the late 
Inquiry into the Causes of its Decay;” in 1732, “Sermons on 
the Education of Children;” in 1735, “ Sermons to Young Men;” 
in 1736, “Ten Sermons on the Power and Grace of Christ; or, 
The Evidences of His Glorious Gospel;” in 1739, the first 
volume of his “Family Expositor,” of which he produced a 
second in the following year. In 1741, appeared his “Practical 
Discourses upon Regeneration;” and, in the two following years, 
“ Three Letters to the Author of a Treatise, entitled Christian¬ 
ity not founded in Argument.” In 1743, he published “The 
Principles of the Christian Religion expressed in Plain and Easy 
Verse, divided into Lessons for the Use of Children and Youth;” 
in 1745, “The Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul;” in 
1747, “Remarkable Passages in the Life of Colonel James Gar¬ 
diner;” in 1748, the third volume of his “Family Expositor;” 
and also “ The Expository Works and other Remains of Arch¬ 
bishop Leighton.” His last production, published in his life¬ 
time, was “A Plain and Serious Address to the Master of a 
Family, on the important subject of Family Religion.” 

In December, 1750, while travelling to St. Alban’s, for the 
purpose of preaching a funeral sermon on Dr. Clarke, he caught 
a severe cold, from which he appears to have suffered much 
throughout the winter. In the spring it was somewhat alle¬ 
viated; but it returned with such alarming violence, in the 
course of the summer, that his physicians advised him, but with¬ 
out effect, to suspend his laborious employments. He preached 
his last sermon in July, 1751; and in the following month pro¬ 
ceeded to Clifton, in the hope of restoring his health, by means 
of the Hotwell waters. His malady increasing, he was advised 


PHILIP DODDRIDGE. 


435 


to make a voyage to Lisbon, but, on account of his scanty means, 
he declined to adopt the recommendation. A clergyman of the 
Church of England, to whom he was almost a stranger, on being 
made acquainted with his distressing circumstances, set on foot 
a subscription for his relief, declaring, « That it would be an 
everlasting reproach to the church, and the nation in general, 
if a man, who did so much honour to Christianity, and who 
might, if his conscience had not prevented, have obtained the 
highest ecclesiastical dignities, should, on account of his circum¬ 
stances, be discouraged from taking a step’on which his life 
depended.” An ample sum was soon raised, and Doddridge 
hastened to Falmouth; on reaching which, he appeared to be so 
much worse, that his wife suggested the propriety of his return¬ 
ing home, or remaining where he was; but he replied, calmly, 
“ The die is cast, and I choose to go.” He accordingly em¬ 
barked on the 30th of September, and reached Lisbon on the 
13th of the following month : but no favourable change in his 
health took place; and he became sensible that the termination 
of his earthly career was rapidly approaching. The serenity 
of his last moments was interrupted only by the regret which 
he felt at leaving his amiable and beloved wife a friendless widow 
in a foreign land. His death took place within a fortnight after 
he had landed, (on the 26th of October, 1751,) and his remains 
were interred in the burial-ground of the British factory. His 
congregation erected a monument to his memory at the meeting¬ 
house in Northampton, and liberally provided for his wife and 
children. 

He left the manuscript in shorthand, but partly transcribed 
for the press, of the last three volumes of his “ Family Exposi¬ 
tor;” which Orton, w r ho, with some of his pupils, completed the 
transcript, published in 1754 and 1756. In 1763, appeared 
his “ Lectures on the Principal Subjects of Pneumatology, Ethics, 
and Divinity;” of these a new and improved edition was printed 
in 1794; and recently a large and very interesting collection 
of his letters has been presented to the public. 

In person, Doddridge was rather above the middle height; 
and particularly slender. The expression of his countenance 
was sprightly, and his deportment polite and engaging. His 
familiar discourse was always agreeable, and not unfrequently 
brilliant. Although a man of sincere piety, and a strict and 


436 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


dignified observer of his pastoral duties, he was particularly 
gay, and often facetious among friends, or in the bosom of his 
family. He took as much delight in innocent mirth as a child, 
and was by far the most lively and amusing member of the 
circle in which he moved. 

In the pulpit, he is described as having been a great master 
of the passions: his manner was earnest; and all that he said 
appeared to be the result of conviction. To strangers, his de¬ 
livery and gestures appeared artificially vehement; but those 
who were acquainted with the vivacity of his temper, considered 
his energy, as a preacher, perfectly natural and unaffected. For 
some time, he prepared his discourses with great care, but the 
multiplicity of his avocations at length compelled him to extem¬ 
porize. While at Kibworth, his library was so small that he 
borrowed religious books from his congregation; and these be¬ 
ing for the most part practical works, led him, it is supposed, 
into that plain and useful style which contributed so materially 
to his subsequent success. He always evinced a laudable anx¬ 
iety to be well understood. “ I fear,” he remarks, on one occa¬ 
sion, “that my discourse to-day was too abstruse for my hear¬ 
ers,—I resolve to labour after greater plainness, and bring 
down my preaching to the understandings of the weakest.” He 
never descended to personal invective in his sermons, and care¬ 
fully avoided engaging in controversy. “Men of contrary 
parties,” said he, “sit down more attached to their own opinions, 
after such encounters, than they were at the beginning, and 
much more estranged in their affections.” 

No man could be more rigidly watchful of his own conduct. 
His passions appear to have been admirably controlled by his 
piety; and his actions were, generally, the consequences of 
sober deliberation. Twice a year he seriously reviewed what he 
had done, and omitted to do, during the preceding six months; 
and formed resolutions for future improvement. Before he 
went on a visit, or set out on a journey, he considered what op¬ 
portunities he might have of doing good, so that he might be 
prepared to embrace them; and to what temptations he might 
be exposed, that he might arm himself against them. Even his 
benevolence was governed by previous consideration. “ I have 
this day,” he says, in one of his annual resolutions, ‘ in secret 
devotion made a vow, that I would consecrate a tenth part of 


PHILIP DODDRIDGE. 


437 


my whole income to charitable uses, and an eighth part of the 
profit of my hooks to occasional contributions.” He not only 
carried this resolution into effect, but renewed it for the ensuing 
year. Although poor, he never involved himself in debt, and 
always had a trifle of cash in hand at the close of his annual 
accounts. 

Early in life, he had wisely resolved to be an early riser, and 
thenceforth, unless severely indisposed, quitted his bed, winter 
and summer, at five o’clock. « I am generally employed,” he 
observes, “with very short intervals, from morning to night, 
and have seldom more than six hours in bed; yet, such is the 
goodness of God to me, that I seldom know what it is to be 
weary.” In his Family Expositor, he attributes the greater 
part of his productions to his having invariably risen at five, 
instead of seven o’clock; a practice which, if pursued for forty 
years, would, he observes, add a fourth of that period to a 
man’s life. 

As a tutor, Doddridge was eminently judicious; as a father 
and a husband, most affectionate; and as a friend, sincere and 
amiable. His various works, especially the “Family Expositor” 
and his “Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul,” have be¬ 
come so extensively popular, and obtained so much applause 
from the most eminent critics, that to eulogize them would be 
sheer supererogation. For the latter production, he received 
the thanks of many eminent divines; and the Duchess of Somer¬ 
set, in a letter to Doddridge, dated in 1750, observes, “I may 
with truth assure you, that I never was so deeply affected with 
any thing I ever met with as with that book,—and I could not 
be easy till I had given one to every servant in my house.” 
His “Family Expositor” has been translated into almost every 
European language; and his sermons on «The Evidences of 
Christianity” have long constituted one of the first subjects on 
which students are examined at St. John’s College, Cambridge. 
Simpson, in his “Plea,” declares that, in his opinion, no single 
work “is equal to the admirable course of lectures by the excel¬ 
lent Dr. Doddridgeand Dr. Kippis observes, that “ he was 
not merely a great man, but one of the most Christian ministers 
that ever existed.” 


2 o 2 


438 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


HANNAH MORE. 



ISS MORE was born at Stapleton, in Glou¬ 
cestershire, in 1745. Her father was a man 
of considerable learning, a teacher of school 
in Stapleton, and a member of the Church of 
England. He took pleasure in narrating to 
his children, incidents from Greek or Roman 
history; and these narratives Hannah at an 
early age, listened to with interest and delight. 
Her intellectual faculties were acute and active; 
and under her parent’s instructions she made ra¬ 
pid progress in the English branches, mathema¬ 
tics, and Latin. From her eldest sister she learned 
French ; when twelve years old, she entered a school 
at Bristol, of which her sister was teacher ; and when 
sixteen, attended Sheridan’s lectures on eloquence. 

During this time, her taste and talent for poetry had 
been developing; and some of her verses, on the lectures, hav¬ 
ing been shown to Sheridan, he requested an introduction to 
the youthful poetess. When seventeen, she wrote the pastoral 
drama, “ Search after Happiness and during the same period, 
or a little later, produced translations from the Latin, Spanish, 
and Italian languages. After her unhappy acquaintance with Mr. 
Turner had terminated, she devoted her time exclusively to lite¬ 
rature, and to the amusements of fashionable life. Such devo¬ 
tion is incompatible with growth in grace; and though during 
several years, Miss More professed, and sometimes defended, 
Christianity, yet, judging from her correspondence, it appears to 
have maintained but feeble influence over her. The world was 
her idol; in pursuit of its pleasures and applause, she devoted 
every energy of her mind; and while in sober moments she 
glanced over a religious book, her seasons of relaxation were 
spent in the ball-room and the theatre. 


HANNAH MORE. 


439 


The first interruption of this worldly course was occasioned 
by the death of her friend and patron, Garrick the tragedian. 
From this period, a change in the tone of her correspondence 
is visible, and she became, in her appearance, more serious and 
thoughtful. The change wrought gradually for ten years; the 
world, during that period, continued to lose its charms to her; 
and in 1785, she abandoned London, the scene of her many 
follies, and repaired to a small country-seat named Cowslip 
Green. Here her principal employments were reading, medita¬ 
tion, occasional correspondence, and gardening. By way of 
public remonstrance against the life she had formerly led, she 
published her “ Manners of the Great,” which excited great 
interest, and passed through several editions in a few weeks. 
In 1789, while making occasional rambles in the surrounding 
villages with her sister Martha, she was so struck with the 
ignorance and immorality of the poor as to adopt the resolu¬ 
tion of establishing schools for their instruction. The sisters 
soon decided on a plan; a school was formed at the romantic 
village of Cheddar, and in a short time three hundred chil¬ 
dren were under instruction. Such was the success of the first 
trial, that schools multiplied in all the neighbouring villages, 
and the care of them engrossed nearly all of Miss More’s time. 
She was warmly seconded by her sister; “and notwithstanding 
many discouragements, they planted schools in ten parishes, 
and superintended the education of twelve hundred children. 
When their funds were exhausted, they were supplied from 
those of Wilberforce, Newton, and others. As the work pros¬ 
pered, it led to other useful measures. Parents were invited on 
Sabbath evenings to hear the reading of a sermon; Bibles and 
Prayer Books were distributed; and a system of catechising 
established.” Many reprobates (says Miss More) were by the 
blessing of God awakened, and many swearers and Sabbath 
breakers reclaimed. The numbers both of young and old 
scholars increased, and the daily life and conversation of many 
seemed to keep pace with their religious profession on Sunday. 

At this time, the depth of wickedness to which the French 
republicans had attained, was hurrying into its vortex a consi¬ 
derable portion of the British population, especially among the 
poor. The framework of society was shaken, and a spirit of 
atheism seemed to be fast supplanting the creeds of nations. 


440 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


In this state of affairs, Miss More was urged from all sides to 
produce some small tract, which, being extensively circulated, 
might serve to counteract the French influence. After long 
hesitation, she published her “ Village Dialogues, by Will Chip,” 
of which hundreds of thousands of copies were distributed. It 
was followed by her “ Remarks” on the atheistical speech of 
Dupont in the National Convention ; by the “ Village Politics;” 
and the series of “ Cheap Repository Tracts.” Of the latter, 
two millions were sold the first year. In 1799, appeared her 
“Strictures on Female Education,” which, though subjecting 
her to some groundless assaults at that time, is now considered 
a standard work on female education. Six years after, at the 
solicitation of an eminent church dignitary, she prepared a 
work, entitled, “Hints towards forming the character of a 
young Princess,” which was designed for Charlotte, Princess of 
Wales. Previous to this, she had removed to Barley Wood, 
where she passed her time in seclusion with her sisters. Not 
long after the publication of the “Hints,” she was seized with 
severe illness, which, during two years, rendered her unfit for 
bodily or mental exertion; and scarcely had her frame begun 
to acquire strength, than she was called upon to mourn the loss 
of her intimate friend, Bishop Porteus, to whose memory she 
consecrated an urn at Barley Wood. In 1811, she published 
“Practical Piety,” and “Christian Morals.” After a considera¬ 
ble interval, in which she lost a sister, she gave to the world 
one of her favourite productions—An essay on the character 
and writings of St. Paul. Before this was finished an accident 
occurred, by which her useful labours had nearly been termi¬ 
nated by a dreadful death. Her shawl having caught fire, 
quickly enveloped her in flames, which partially injured her 
person; and the immediate danger, though soon over, left her 
in a state of great bodily weakness. Not long after, two of her 
remaining sisters were called away to another life. 

Though now in her seventieth year, this indefatigable woman 
continued to labour in the cause to which she had so long de¬ 
voted her best powers. The celebrity of her literary works, 
and the success of her measures of philanthropy, rendered her 
country-seat the favourite resort of the most illustrious literati 
of England. Easy and unaffected in deportment, Miss More 
recommended herself to the esteem of her visiters by her amia- 


HANNAH MORE. 


441 


ble qualities of heart, as well as by the gifts of her mind. Her 
productions were among the most popular in England; they were 
read with avidity in the British colonies and the United States; 
and several of them w T ere translated into other languages. In 
1818, a letter from Ceylon informed her that Chief Justice 
Johnston of that island had caused several of her writings to 
be translated into the Tamul and Cingalese languages; and 
about the same time, two Persian nobles, to whom she presented 
a copy of her “Practical Piety,” declared their intention of 
having it translated on their arrival at home. 

After recovery from severe illness, which for a time threat¬ 
ened her life, Miss More published her popular book, called 
Moral Sketches. While the admiration of the public was 
lavished on her on account of this work, the death of Martha, 
her only surviving sister, occurred ; and, in the following year, 
her own health began rapidly to fail. Daring the summer and 
autumn of 1820, various attacks of illness threatened to termi¬ 
nate her life. These afflictions she bore with Christian forti¬ 
tude, dwelling in thought and conversation upon the promises 
of Scripture, and expressing her willingness to depart, and be 
with Christ. She was again restored to partial health; and 
again, in 1822, prostrated by an attack of inflammation on the 
chest. Contrary to her friends’ expectations and her own, she 
recovered to nearly her former health; so that Barley Wood 
again became the resort of the learned and the pious. A respite 
of two years afforded her many opportunities to exercise her 
varied benevolence; but, in 1824, she was again laid upon a bed 
of sickness. On recovering, she extracted from her later works 
passages on prayer, which she published in a small volume, 
called the “ Spirit of Prayer.” It passed through three edi¬ 
tions in three months. 

By the death of Martha, the pecuniary management of the 
household had devolved on Miss More. She was habitually 
negligent in household affairs; and of this the servants took 
advantage to defraud her to a large amount. She, therefore, 
resolved to sell Barley Wood; and having dismissed her attend¬ 
ants, she repaired to Clifton. She entered her new residence, 
April 18,1828, in the eighty-third year of her age. From this 
time her health gradually declined; sudden attacks of pain or 
debility left her weak and nervous; and her continual cheer- 
56 


442 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


fulness only rendered the appreciation of her sufferings more 
painful to her friends. By unremitting care, the approaches 
of death were baffled, until 1832, when a change for the worse, 
both in body and mind, took place. Almost imperceptibly the 
splendour of her intellect dimmed and wasted; but her disposi¬ 
tion was still kind and gentle. She lingered until the autumn 
of 1833, when the symptoms of disease increased to an alarm¬ 
ing degree. The violence of her disorder could not diminish 
her faith in the promises of God, nor disturb the tranquillity 
of her mind. “ What can I do, (was her language,) what can 
I not do with Christ? I know that my Redeemer liveth. 
Happy, happy are those who expect to be together in a better 
world. The thought of that world lifts the mind above itself. 
Oh, the love of Christ, the love of Christ.” Again, when in 
much pain, she prayed—“Lord, strengthen my resignation to 
thy holy will. Lord, have mercy upon me, a poor miserable 
sinner. Thou hast not left me comfortless, 0 Lord; strengthen me 
in the knowledge of my Saviour Christ, whom I love and honour.” 

Such was the manner in which this woman of many honours 
expressed, in view of death, her confidence in a happy immor¬ 
tality. “ On Friday, the 6th of September, 1833, (we con¬ 
dense the account of an eye-witness,) the morning devotion was 
offered up at her bed-side. There was an unusual brightness 
in her face. She smiled, and endeavouring to raise herself, she 
reached out her arms, as if catching at something, and ex¬ 
claimed, ‘Joy.’ In this state of quietness and inward peace 
she remained for about half an hour, when Dr. Carrick came. 
The pulse had become extremely quick and weak. At about 
ten, the symptoms of speedy departure could not be doubted. 
She fell into a dozing sleep, and slight convulsions succeeded, 
which seemed to be attended with no pain. The pulse became 
fainter and fainter, and as quick as lightning. It was almost 
extinct from twelve o’clock, when the whole frame was very 
serene. With the exception of a sigh or a groan, there was 
nothing but the gentle breathing of infant sleep. Contrary to 
expectation, she survived the night. On Saturday, she conti¬ 
nued till ten minutes after one, when I saw the last gentle 
breath escape, and one more was added to that multitude which 
no man can number, who sing the praises of God, and of the 
Lamb, for ever and ever.” 


HANNAH MORE. 


443 


We need add but little4o this sketch of Hannah More. Her 
character is strongly marked in her writings; her influence was 
ever for good, and her example was a pattern of that religion 
of which she was the untiring advocate. In her is exemplified 
the power of Divine grace over the soul; and her case is one 
among the many, which illustrate the all-important duty of pa¬ 
rents to inculcate, in the minds of their children, early reli¬ 
gious impressions. Though calumniated by open falsehood or 
dark insinuation, she refuted her enemies rather by displays of 
Christian character than by the direct weapons of argument; 
and while many of bolder pretensions would have sunk under 
the assaults made upon her, she grew stronger after every at¬ 
tack, because her unshaken faith in God manifested itself rather 
by deeds than by words. 


444 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


DAVID ZIESBERGER. 



IESBERGER was born in 1725, at Zauch- 
tenthal, in Moravia. When quite young he 
moved with his parents to Herrnhut, and when 
fifteen he was employed by Count Zinzendorf 
in Holland. Through that eminent man he 
became acquainted with the Princess of 
Orange, to whom his winning manners rendered 
him a favourite. This fair chance for advance¬ 
ment Ziesberger abandoned; and embarking at 
London, sailed for Georgia. At the Moravian 
settlement in that province, he found his parents; 
and here the energy of his character was first 
awakened. The settlement was in destitution; no 
one could help another; each earned, with hard toil, 
a scanty subsistence for himself and family. Ziesber¬ 
ger, though still a youth, embraced this rough life 
with alacrity. Danger and adventure had for him a charm, 
which brought into exercise the finest traits of his character. 
Not unfrequently he roamed through the forests at night, either 
seeking game, or tracking the wild animals which then abounded 
in the south; and on a few of these occasions he very narrowly 
escaped with his life. 

It was during this life of adventure that his thoughts were 
first turned to the serious consideration of religion. Before 
conversion he is said to have answered a friend who pressed 
upon him the necessity of giving his heart to God, “I shall 
be devoted to God, and then all of you will perceive, that that 
great change has taken place in deed and in truth.” The ex¬ 
pression was characteristic; it also shows, perhaps, that then 
and perhaps long before, a silent but powerful voice was whis¬ 
pering to him the necessity of that great change. In the 
following year what he had foreseen occurred. The Spirit of 


DAVID ZIESBERGER. 


445 


God wrought powerfully with him, and he could find no rest 
until, with sincere repentance, he sought it at the foot of the 
cross. But having once experienced true religion, he resolved 
“to devote himself, soul and body,” to its interests. He studied 
the Mohawk language; he associated with the Iroquois, and 
attended their councils; he journeyed far to the north, among 
the tribes of Pennsylvania and Virginia. In a few years he 
visited Europe for the purpose of obtaining assistance; but soon 
returned to America, and entered the country of the Six Nations. 
It was not long after, that the settlement on the river Mahony 
was destroyed by Indians. To save it, Ziesberger had ridden 
all night alone, but was not able to reach it in time to warn the 
inhabitants of danger. He carried the news to Bethlehem, the 
people of which afterwards collected and buried the bodies, and 
adopted such means of defence as were within their power. 
The Indians were prevented from making further depredations; 
and the Moravian settlements, six in number, were at this time 
in a more flourishing condition than at any period previous. 
One of the happiest villages was Gnadenhuetten. Here Zies¬ 
berger and Seidel made a treaty with the Nantikoke Indians, 
and the Shawanose. Some of these people became converts, 
and their earnest unaffected piety was highly gratifying to 
Ziesberger. 

The success of the missionaries excited the jealousy of the 
unconverted Indians, who resolved upon breaking up the settle¬ 
ment. This was to be effected not by the tomahawk, which had 
already been tried in vain, but by a system of appeals to the 
passions of the Christian Indians. This was so successful, that 
many began to waver at the persuasions of their ancient friends, 
who painted in glowing colours their war-feasts, their battles, 
and especially the character of an Indian brave. Many became 
negligent in industry and religious duty; while others rejoined 
the neighbouring tribes. The evil was arrested by a visit from 
Ziesberger. He collected the converted Indians in a valley, 
delivered to them a touching appeal, and kneeling down with 
the whole assembly, commended them, with many tears, to the 
mercy and protection of God. The wanderers returned to duty; 
and the zeal and firmness of Ziesberger, not only silenced the 
insinuations of the hostile Indians, but were the means of con¬ 
verting the wife of Paxonous, a powerful chief of the Mohegans. 

2 P 


446 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


War soon after impeded the Brethren’s operations. Such 
hours as could be obtained from duty and danger were employed 
by Ziesberger in compiling a grammar and vocabulary of 
the Iroquois language, and in translating the 44 Harmony of the 
Four Gospels.” At the same time he held many conferences 
with the Indians, and conducted with them negotiations on the 
part of the government. Six years were thus passed—years 
of toil, and danger, and privation, but during which, the zeal of 
Ziesberger never faltered in the good work which he had under¬ 
taken to perform. During this time, the great Indian teacher 
Papunhawk was converted. His case was a triumph of grace. 
He possessed unbounded influence over the neighbouring In¬ 
dians, who considered him as having direct communication with 
the Great Spirit. On first hearing the gospel at Nain, he burst 
into tears, exclaiming, 44 0 God, have mercy upon me—grant 
that the death of the Saviour may be made manifest to me!” 
Yet this man paused before taking the decisive step; his pride 
recoiled at the prospect of losing his influence among a people 
who idolized him. During the time of this conflict, Ziesberger 
visited Machwihilusing where Papunhawk resided. He was 
greeted by the sight of the entire village moving toward him 
to hear the truth. He preached day after day, many were 
converted; and Papunhawk, giving up all his opposition, became 
a sincere and zealous Christian. 

Still the settlements were in great danger. The savages had 
laid waste the country with fire and sword. The people of 
Wechquetank sought refuge in Nazareth: others fled from one 
town to another. The town of Nain was blockaded on all sides. 
At the same time more trying dangers appeared, in a different 
quarter. The colonists had become so infuriated against the 
Indians, that they resolved to destroy civilized as well as savage. 
During four weeks the Brethren stood on their defence, watching 
day and night, through intensely cold weather, and expecting a 
cruel death, if not from the red men, from those who should 
have exhausted every effort to assist them. At length a govern¬ 
ment express arrived from Philadelphia, with an order that all 
the baptized Indians should be conducted to that city. They 
arrived there in safety, and remained some months. Afterwards 
the missionaries conducted them to Machwihilusing on the 
Susquehanna. But persecution still followed these devoted 


DAVID ZIESBERGER. 


447 


people. Wechquetank was burned by the white people, and an 
attempt of like nature was made on Bethlehem. The inhabi¬ 
tants of Conestoga near Lancaster were assailed by fifty-seven 
whites, and fourteen of them killed. The remainder fled to 
Lancaster, implored protection of the magistrates, and were 
lodged by them in the workhouse. The assailants marched 
hither, broke into the building, and massacred the fugitives 
while crying for mercy on their knees. Amid these scenes, the 
energy of Ziesberger in behalf of the converts never faltered. 
He resolved to found a settlement on the remote banks of the 
Susquehanna, where the distant Indian tribes might be assembled 
for instruction. Many of the old inhabitants of Bethlehem 
sold their lands, and deserted the homes of childhood, to ac¬ 
company him. On the road they experienced every hardship. 
Circuits of many miles had to be taken, to avoid thftndians; 
at night they lay in the woods; occasionally paths had to be 
cut through the forest; rapid streams were crossed, in frail 
canoes; then came stormy weather, accompanied by heavy falls 
of snow; and at length their scanty provisions began to fail. 
In addition to these troubles, the forests caught fire, and the 
whole party scarcely escaped with their lives. But their Chris¬ 
tian patience triumphed over these difficulties, and they were 
enabled to found their new town, Friedenshuetten, on the distant 
banks of the Susquehanna. 

The description of these really Christian men, as given by 
their leader, is a refreshing picture of that life which they only 
can lead whose hearts have been touched by the finger of hea¬ 
venly love. “ In rainy weather the brethren and sisters as¬ 
sembled in small companies in their dwellings, to sing and praise 
the Lord for his mercies. A perfect harmony and concord pre¬ 
vailed among them. It was a pleasure to see how judiciously 
they planned and executed the work of each day. They ap¬ 
peared like a swarm of bees. Each knew his proper task, and 
performed it readily. Some were employed in building houses, 
others in cleaning the land; some in fishing, to provide for those 
at work; others cared for the house-keeping.” But this quiet 
was soon interrupted. The Cayuga Indians, becoming jealous 
of the Brethren’s prosperity, ordered them to leave Frieden¬ 
shuetten ; but through the intercession of Ziesberger, they were 
induced to revoke the order. But the joy at this deliverance 


448 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


was dampened, by intelligence that a great council of the Iro¬ 
quois at Yaminga had severely reprimanded the chief of Cayuga, 
for giving land to the Moravians without their consent. On 
hearing this, Ziesberger journeyed to Onondago alone, to have 
a conference with the Iroquois. He addressed them in council, 
and after mature consideration they fully ratified the Cayuga 
grant. 

Meanwhile, the new town increased rapidly. The Indians 
crowded in numbers to see and admire it, thus introducing them¬ 
selves to the influence of missionary teaching. Ziesberger laboured 
with increased zeal, and witnessed effects of his labour which 
thrilled his bosom with gratitude. Senecas, Tutelas, Mohegans, 
and Mohawks mingled their tears while hearing of the name 
of Jesus. Ziesberger was adopted to the great privilege of bro¬ 
therhood* with the Delawares, and in 1767 a church, spacious 
for that time, was erected at Friedenshuetten. 

In the autumn of this year, Ziesberger, accompanied by Pa- 
punhawk, made a journey to the Ohio. After wandering many 
days without seeing a human being, he reached a solitary hut, 
in which dwelt an Indian hunter with his family. For years 
this man had lived thus secluded from all society. On arriving 
among the Senecas, Ziesberger was warned about proceeding to 
Gosgoschuenk, whose inhabitants, he was told, had not their 
equals in wickedness and thirst for blood. The intrepid mis¬ 
sionary made the noble reply, that, if they were so wicked, they 
stood so much more in need of the gospel of their Redeemer; 
but that, at all events, he did not fear them. On arriving at 
Gosgoschuenk, he at night addressed a great assembly of the 
warriors who were gathered round a fire. The whole history 
of Ziesberger is wonderful; but no part of it is more so than 
that he escaped alive from these savages. Most of the warriors 
listened with indifference or contempt, while the women be¬ 
came his enemies, because he denounced their favourite luxury 
of prolonging the agonies of their captives by excruciating 
tortures. He soon became a hated man, and, but for the 
friendly shelter afforded by a relative of Papunhawk, would 
probably have been put to death. After remaining some time, 
he returned to Friedenshuetten, where he collected a few pious 
men, and again set out for Gosgoschuenk. This was the chosen 
field of Ziesberger’s labours—the harvest where he exerted every 


DAYID ZIESBERGER. 


449 


energy of mind and body fruitage for his lord. His small com¬ 
pany built a block-house to protect themselves from the Indians, 
and, when the cold season approached, they added a small win¬ 
ter-house, where the sacrament could be administered to the In¬ 
dian Christians, who consisted of a few families. After a dreary 
interval of alternate hope and fear, some dawnings of a better 
day appeared. Ziesberger preached every day, and he began to 
perceive that a few of his hearers appeared serious and atten¬ 
tive. Some weeks after, two parties arose in the village. The 
stronger opposed the gospel with the hatred of savages ; the 
others declared that, rather than be deprived of it, they would 
depart and dwell elsewhere. So furious was the contest be¬ 
tween these factions, that the Moravians prepared to depart. 
Three of the hostile Indians attempted to detain them, but were 
awed into silence by Ziesberger. At this time, a joyful event 
unexpectedly took place. It was the conversion of a chief 
named Allmewi, who was one hundred and twenty years old. 
He had, from the first, given his countenance and protection to 
the missionaries, and at length, notwithstanding the scruples 
and prejudices of age, he fully embraced the gospel. In the 
Indian assembly, he exclaimed, “ I can bear it no longer, my 
heart is full within me, and I have no rest night nor day. Un¬ 
less I shall soon receive comfort, I shall die.” He was baptized 
on Christmas day, and, until his death, exerted his influence for 
the mission. 

The brethren had now completed their arrangements for the 
departure. They retired to a distant spot on the river bank, 
established a new settlement, and lived by hunting and fishing. 
Here they received intelligence that their enemies at Gosgos- 
chuenk had, soon after their departure, begun to relent, in con¬ 
sequence of which a solemn assembly was convened to consider 
whether they should receive the gospel. “ Every one,” they 
decided, “ has full liberty to hear or not to hear it. Whoever 
has no mind to hear, may stay away ; for the Indians are a free 
people, and will never be slaves.” Ziesberger was entreated to- 
forget all former injuries, while, at the same time, frank con¬ 
fession was made that a band of murderers had long before sworn 
to take his life. The poor, half-starved band could hardly 
believe such tidings ; but they were true. Numbers of the peo¬ 
ple of Gosgoschuenk; those who had plotted their destruction, 

57 2 p 2 


450 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


who had never spared a captive, nor known kindness or pity, 
came to lay their savage feelings at the foot of the cross. They 
stood round Zeisberger, exclaiming that his God should be their 
God, and that they were ready to accompany him wherever he 
went. He soon after journeyed still further down the Ohio, 
and founded a new town at the Beaver Falls. It was named 
Friedenstadt. Hither he was followed by many of his former 
enemies, and in the spring he became acquainted with Netawat- 
wees, the greatest chief of the Delawares, and, ever after, the 
missionary’s firm friend. He invited Ziesberger to form a new 
settlement on the Muskingum, about seventy-five miles from 
Friedenstadt, and amid scenery of the most romantic charac¬ 
ter. Possession was taken in the name of the United Brethren, 
and some of their number began to build the town of Schoen- 
brunn—the Beautiful Spring—the loveliest of all Ziesberger’s 
settlements, and the one which lay nearest his heart. Here he 
often taught his Indian pupils, amid the seclusion of beautiful 
groves, or preached by the waters of the neighbouring lakes. 
Sometimes he taught in the school; sometimes he translated 
school or devotional books into the Indian languages; at others, 
he visited the sick and needy, while, more rarely, (strange work 
for a minister,) he pursued the wolf and the bear. In 1776, he 
founded Lichtenau, higher up the Muskingum. About the same 
time, Netawatwees and his nephew were converted. This was 
the golden period of Ziesberger’s career. In every former set¬ 
tlement he had felt, after a time, a restlessness of mind—a 
persuasion that he must yet seek a nobler home. Now he felt 
that his wish was granted. The Delaware chief "was devotedly 
attached to him, and the whole nation gladly received the words 
of truth. Embassies came from distant tribes, declaring their 
readiness to receive the gospel and their personal regard for the 
teacher. 

Yet this prosperity was alloyed with trouble. The Cherokees 
were prevented from attacking the settlements only through the 
decided language of Netawatwees. The Senecas next invaded 
the country, and in the following year Netawatwees died. His 
last request was that the Delawares should hear and believe the 
word of God preached by the Moravians. Ziesberger followed 
the noble warrior to his burial-place, weeping with the bitter¬ 
ness of a child. Soon after, a war broke out between the Hu- 


DAVID ZIESBERGER. 


451 


rons and Senecas. The Delawares joined the former, and or¬ 
dered the missionaries to march against the rebels on the other 
side of the Ohio, kill them, and send their scalps. At that 
crisis Papunhawk died. Disasters thickened on every side, and 
the whole country was a scene of w^ar and ravage. Then 
White Eye, the successor of Netawatwees, died; and the ene¬ 
mies of Ziesberger, becoming bolder and more cruel, plotted 
against his life. When urged to fly, he replied, “ If I am in 
danger, I cannot prevent it, and will not fly from it; but I 
commit my work, my fate, my future course, to my gracious 
Lord and Master, whom I serve.” One day he met eight Min- 
goes, a tribe by whom he was hated, and who had resolved upon 
his death. He was alone, but unawed; the savages quailed 
before his calm courage, and in a few moments walked swiftly 
away. 

During the revolutionary war, two hundred Huron warriors, 
under their leader Half King, marched against the Moravians. 
Ziesberger sent them several slaughtered oxen, and an abun¬ 
dance of other provisions. Half King was highly gratified, and 
next day entered Lichtenau with eighty-two men. He shook 
hands heartily with Ziesberger, visited the schools, dined, and 
made a treaty. This he afterwards broke, attacked Gnaden- 
huetten, and shot all the cattle. Ziesberger, Senseman, and 
Heckenwalder, while endeavouring to save their people, were 
captured and carried before the Half King. His settlement, 
containing all his books, manuscripts, and translations, were 
reduced to ashes. Gnadenhuetten, Salem, and Schoenbrunn 
were deserted, all the houses and fields laid waste, and the 
wretched inhabitants conducted many miles into the wilderness 
by a band of Hurons. Still Ziesberger bore up, and, with 
three companions, went to Detroit to solicit assistance from the 
government at that place. On returning, they conducted the 
brethren to the shores of Lake Erie. Here they remained 
until Governor Schuyler offered them a place on the Huron 
river, and furnished them with boats, provisions, and other 
stores. The spot was one of great beauty, midway between 
Lakes Huron and Erie, and close to Lake St. Clair, and hither 
the dispersed Indian^ converts, who had been scattered into va¬ 
rious parts, seagerly flocked. Once more a flourishing settle¬ 
ment arose in the wilderness, and once more Ziesberger left the 


452 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


society of those he had gathered there, and went still further 
back to found another. This he named Goshen, and here he 
spent the last eight years of his life. He was now eighty years 
of age; and, during sixty years of that time, he had visited the 
settled States but three times. He was emphatically a man of 
the wilderness; for its children he toiled and suffered, and 
even when he had begun to feel the infirmities of age, his hours 
were occupied in translating Scripture, a hymn-book, and other 
writings into the Delaware language. When no longer able to 
travel, he visited every house in the settlement from day to 
day. Total blindness caused him to stop the affectionate cus¬ 
tom. He died in the triumph of Christian faith in October, 
1808, in the eighty-eighth year of his age. 


SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 


453 


SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 



IR ISAAC NEWTON as a Christian—as the 
servant of God, rather than as the greatest 
of philosophers—is the subject of our present 
sketch. We shall be obliged therefore to pass 
in a rapid manner over those discoveries by 
which he reduced philosophy to a system, and 
which have justly entitled him to the title of the 
greatest of all philosphers. 

Isaac Newton was born (Dec. 25, 1642, 0. S.) 
at Woolsthorpe Manor, Lincolnshire. Though 
extremely diminutive at birth, he appears to have 
been healthy during childhood, a circumstance 
partly owing to his residence among the beautiful 
natural scenery of his native valley. His father had 
died before Isaac’s birth, so that his early education 
was wholly intrusted to the mother. At school he was 
dull and inattentive ; but during playhours he amused himself 
in making or inventing toys and little machines, some of which 
astonished much older schoolmates. In his twelfth year, he was 
placed at the public school at Grantham. Here he made a 
mill, moved by a mouse , and a water clock. At night he 
amused himself by flying kites with paper lanterns to their tails, 
which the alarmed villagers took for meteors or comets. He 
also attempted drawing, and even the writing of verse. But 
his greatest mechanical effort at this time was in the construc¬ 
tion of a sun-dial, which was so good a timepiece as to be long 


afterwards celebrated under the name of Isaac’s dial. 

It was the wish of Newton’s mother that he would devote 
himself to the farm at Woolsthorpe. For this he was found 
utterly incapable, and, through the influence of his uncle, was 
permitted to enter Trinity College. Here the youthful mechanic 
entered upon the studies for which nature had fitted him; his 


454 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


idleness and inattention disappeared; he speedily mastered 
Euclid, Descartes, and Kepler; and he applied the theoretic 
knowledge thus obtained, to the construction of the philosophi¬ 
cal and astronomical instruments then in use. His first great 
discovery was the solar spectrum, which led to an entirely new 
theory of light and of colours, and to a reconstruction of the 
refracting telescope. In 1665, the plague drove him from Cam¬ 
bridge ; and it was while spending a period of retirement at 
Woolsthorpe, that the first ideas occurred to him of that won¬ 
derful law of gravitation which finally resulted in that system 
of the universe developed in his Principia. In 1668 he re¬ 
turned to Cambridge, and constructed the first reflecting tele¬ 
scope, the first practical result of his great discovery in optics. 
He was elected professor of mathematics, and in 1671 a member 
of the Royal Society. The publication of his new theory of 
light, (1672,) involved him in numerous discussions with the many 
professors, who, both in England and on the Continent, obstinate¬ 
ly adhered to the old system. 

Newton’s attention was, as we have seen, early directed to 
the subject of gravitation. From various subjects he postponed 
the theory, which was already struggling in his mind, for nearly 
sixteen years, when a conversation concerning the measurement 
of a degree on the meridian induced him to resume the consi¬ 
deration of it. The result was, the discovery of the law of uni¬ 
versal gravitation, which connects into one great family every 
orb that rolls through the immensity of space, and by means 
of which the quantity of matter, the specific gravity, the rela¬ 
tive weight, and the form of the sun and planets can be accu¬ 
rately ascertained. 

Newton took a conspicuous part, with the University of Cam¬ 
bridge, in opposing the command of James II., that Father 
Francis, an ignorant monk of the Benedictine order, should be 
admitted to the rank and privilege of Master of Arts. The 
university triumphed, and, in 1688, Newton appeared as its 
representative in parliament. About the time of his return, he 
published his “ Letter on the Existence of a Deity,” which 
manifests his earnest piety. At an early age, Newton’s mind 
had been directed to the truths of "the gospel; the Bible he re¬ 
garded as a sacred book; and his researches into the truths of 
nature impressed more deeply upon his mind the harmony and 


SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 


455 


proofs of benevolence which pervade God’s worKs. His unaf¬ 
fected piety was mistaken by the pedantic philosophers of that 
age for evidence of infirmity; and the idle tale was circulated 
that the author of the Principia had, in his old age, become 
childish. To refute such an idea, we need only refer to the 
events of his subsequent life. In 1694, he became Warden of 
the Mint, an office requiring great mental application ; yet 
within two years after his appointment, the entire money of the 
realm was renewed, and four years after that event, he was pro¬ 
moted to the Mastership of the Mint, an office worth twelve or 
fifteen hundred pounds a year. At Paris he was elected mem¬ 
ber of the Royal Academy of Sciences; in 1701 he was sent 
a second time to parliament, and in 1705, Queen Anne con¬ 
ferred on him the honour of knighthood. Meanwhile he pub¬ 
lished his expositions of the book of Revelation, and amused 
his leisure hours in composing a system of Chronology, based 
on a well known point in ancient history—the Argonautic ex¬ 
pedition. By computations on the astronomical observations in 
Hipparchus, he placed that event fifty-four years after the death 
of Solomon, fixing by the same method several other points as 
concurrent checks. The third edition of his Principia, with 
numerous improvements, appeared in 1726. In the following 
year, (February 28,) he presided at a meeting of the Royal 
Society. He was then in his eighty-fifth year, and the fatigue, 
together with a painful disease to which he was subject, soon 
convinced him that he had acted imprudently. His disorder re¬ 
turned, occasionally in such acute paroxysms that large drops 
of sweat ran down his face. He bore all with gentleness, and. 
at intervals of ease, conversed cheerfully with those around 
him. He expired on the 20th of March. His funeral was 
attended by the most learned and wealthy in the land, and a 
costly monument was raised to his memory in Jerusalem church. 

The private life of Newton was worthy of his genius. A 
large portion of his income was spent in silent acts of charity. 
He was ever ready to aid learning, or encourage discoveries, by 
the most liberal aid; and to all his relatives, even the most dis¬ 
tant, connected with him by blood, he proved a generous bene¬ 
factor, presenting them with hundreds of pounds at a time. 
He cherished the great principles of religious toleration at a 
period when they were little understood, and boldly expressed 


456 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


his abhorrence of every form of persecution. The modest sim¬ 
plicity of his mind was rarely equalled, and never surpassed. 
This was not the result of affectation, but of that purity and 
nobleness of soul, which, though ever struggling into new light, 
feels that its struggle is ever but beginning. Looking far be¬ 
yond other men into the secrets of the universe, the enlarged 
view only convinced him of the boundless depths still to be ex¬ 
plored. He knew well the worth of what he had accomplished, 
and when circumstances compelled him, could assert the just 
value of his discoveries; yet a little before his death, he used 
the following memorable language: “I do not know what I may 
appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only like 
a boy, playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and 
then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, 
while the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.” 
Who, in considering this truly great man, either as a citizen, a 
philosopher, or a Christian, will not wish to be like him, to imi¬ 
tate his virtues, and to fulfil, as he did, the great object of his 


MATTHEW HENRY. 


457 


MATTHEW HENRY. 


was 



ATTHEW HENRY, the great commentator, 
the son of Philip Henry, a pious and 
learned non-conformist minister, and was born 
in 1662. He continued under his father’s care 
till he was eighteen years of age; in which time 
he became well skilled in the learned languages, 
especially in the Hebrew, which his father had 
rendered familiar to him from his childhood; 
and from first to last the study of the Scriptures 
was his most delightful employment. He com¬ 
pleted his education in Mr. Doolittle’s academy at 
Islington, and was afterwards entered in Gray’s Inn 
for the study of the law. But at length, resolving 
© to devote his life to divinity, in 1686, he retired into 
the country, and was chosen pastor of a congregation 
at Chester, where he lived about twenty-five years, 
greatly esteemed and beloved by his people. He had several 
calls to London, which he constantly declined; but was at last 
prevailed upon to accept an unanimous invitation from a congre¬ 
gation at Hackney. He died on the 22d of June, 1714, of 
apoplexy, while he was travelling from Chester to London; 
and was interred at Trinity church in Chester. He wrote, 
1. Expositions of the Bible, in 5 vols. folio. 2. The Life of Mr. 
Philip Henry. 3. Directions for Daily Communion with God. 
4. A Method for Prayer. 5. Four Discourses against Vice and 
Immorality. 6. The Communicant’s Companion. 7. Family 
Hymns. 8. A Scriptural Catechism. And, 9. A Discourse 
concerning the Nature of Schism. Mr. Henry is best known 
in this country by his Exposition of the Old and New Testa¬ 
ment, of which the moderate Christian spirit and mild tone are 
highly appreciated by various denominations of Christians. It 
is one of the most popular commentaries on the Scriptures 
which has ever been published. 

68 2 Q 




458 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


HENRY SCOUGAL. 



*4 ENRY SCOUGAL, M. A., second son of Pa- 
¥ trick Scougal, Bishop of Aberdeen, was born 
June, 1650, at Salton, where his father, the 
immediate predecessor of Bishop Burnet, was 
rector. His father, designing him for the 
ministry, watched over his infant mind with 
peculiar care. He had soon the satisfaction 
of perceiving in him the most amiable disposi¬ 
tions, and his understanding rising at once into 
the vigour of manhood. At an early period, he 
directed his thoughts to sacred literature. He 
perused the historical parts of the Bible with pe¬ 
culiar pleasure, and examined its contents with the 
eye of a philosopher. The nature and evidences 
of the Christian religion also occupied his mind. Nor 
was he inattentive to polite literature. He read the 
Roman classics, and made considerable proficiency in the Greek, 
Hebrew, and other oriental languages. He was also well versed 
in history and mathematics. His diversions were of a manly kind. 
In concert with some of his companions, he formed a little se¬ 
nate, where orations of their own composition were delivered. 
At the age of fifteen, he entered the university, where he be¬ 
haved with great modesty, sobriety, and diligence. He disliked 
the philosophy then taught, and applied himself to the study 
of natural philosophy. When he was yet about eighteen years 
of age, he wrote the reflections and short essays since published. 
In all the public meetings of the students, he was chosen presi¬ 
dent, and had a singular deference paid to his judgment. On 
finishing his courses, he was appointed professor of philosophy 
in the University of Aberdeen, where he conscientiously per¬ 
formed his duty in training up the youth under his care in such 
principles of learning and virtue as might render them orna- 



HENRY SCOUGAL. 


4$9 


ments to church and state. He maintained his authority among 
the students in such a way as to keep them in awe, and at the 
same time to gain their love and esteem. He allotted a con¬ 
siderable part of his income for the poor, and many indigent 
families were relieved in their straits by his bounty, though so 
secretly that they knew not whence their supply came. In four 
years he was, at the age of twenty-three, ordained a minister, 
and settled at Auchterless, twenty miles from Aberdeen, where 
his zeal and ability were eminently displayed. In the twenty- 
fifth year of his age, he was admitted Professor of Divinity in 
the King’s College, Aberdeen. The inward dispositions of this 
excellent man are best seen in his writings, and the whole of 
his outward behaviour and conversation was the constant prac¬ 
tice of what he preached. He died of consumption on the 
20th June, 1678, in the twenty-eighth year of his age, and was 
buried in the King’s College Church in Old Aberdeen. The 
principal work of Scougal is a small treatise entitled, «The 
Life of God in the Soul of Man.” This book is not only valua¬ 
ble for the sublime spirit of piety which it breathes, but for the 
purity and elegance of its style—qualities for which few Scot¬ 
tish writers were distinguished before the Revolution. 


460 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JAMES SAURIN. 



AMES SAURIN, the celebrated preacher, was 
the son of a Protestant lawyer of eminence, 
and born at Nismes in 1677. He applied to 
his studies with great success; hut at length 
being captivated with a military life, he re¬ 
linquished them for the profession of arms. 
^ In 1694, he made a campaigft as a cadet in 
Lord Galloway’s company, and soon afterwards 
obtained a pair of colours in the regiment of Col. 
Renault which served in Piedmont. But the Duke 
of Savoy having made peace with France, he re- 
turned to Geneva, and resumed the study of philoso¬ 
phy and theology, under Turretin and other professors. 
In 1700, he visited Holland, then came to England, 
where he remained for several years, and married. In 
1705, he returned to the Hague, where he fixed his resi¬ 
dence, and preached with the most unbounded applause. To an 
exterior appearance highly prepossessing, he added a strong 
harmonious voice. The sublime prayer which he recited before 
his sermon was uttered in a manner highly affecting. Nor was 
the attention excited by the prayer dissipated by the sermon: 
all who heard it were charmed; and those who came with an 
intention to criticise, were carried along with the preacher and 
forgot their design. His sermons, especially those published 
during his life, are distinguished for justness of thought, force 
of reasoning, and an eloquent, unaffected style. Saurin died on 
the 20th Dec. 1730, aged 53. 

He wrote, 1. Sermons, in 12 vols. 8vo and 12mo; some of 
which display great genius. Saurin was a lover of toleration, 
which gave great offence to some of his fanatical brethren, who 
found fault with him because he did not call the pope Antichrist, 
and the Romish church the whore of Babylon. But these pro¬ 
phetic metaphors, however applicable they may be, were certainly 



JAMES SAURIN. 


461 


not intended by Jesus to be bandied about as terms of reproach; 
to irritate, without convincing, those to whom they were applied. 
Saurin therefore, while he perhaps interpreted these metaphors 
in the same way with his brethren, discovered more of the 
moderation of the Christian spirit. 

2. “ Discourses Historical, Critical, and Moral, on the most 
memorable Events of the Old and New Testament.” This is 
his greatest and most valuable work. It was printed first in 
2 vols. fol. Beausobre and Roques undertook a continuation 
of it, and increased it to 4 vols. It is full of learning: it is a 
collection of the opinions of the most esteemed authors, both 
Christian and heathen; of the philosophers, historians, and 
critics, on every subject which the author examines. 

3. “The State of Christianity in France,” 1725, 8vo. 

4. “An Abridgment of Christian Theology and Morality, in 
the form of a Catechism,” 1722, 8vo. He afterwards published 
an abridgment of this work. 

5. His “ Dissertation on the Expediency of sometimes dis¬ 
guising the Truth,” raised a multitude of enemies against him. 
In this discourse his plan was, to state the arguments of those 
who affirm that, in certain cases, it is lawful to disguise truth, 
and the answers of those who maintained the contrary. He 
do'es not determine the question, but seems, however, to incline 
to the first opinion. He was immediately attacked by several 
adversaries, and a long controversy ensued; but his doctrines 
and opinions were at length publicly approved of by the synods 
of Campen and of the Hague. 


2 q 2 


462 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JONAS HANWAY, 



DISTINGUISHED merchant, traveller, 
and philanthropist, was born at Portsmouth, 
in Hampshire, on the 12th of August, 1712. 
At the age of seventeen, he was bound ap- 
1 prentice to a merchant at Lisbon, and, at the 
Sgf expiration of his apprenticeship, returned to 
London, and pursued his commercial profes¬ 
sion, without any remarkable event occurring 
in his life, until 1743. In the February of this 
year, he entered into partnership with Mr. Ding- 
ley, a Russian merchant, and arrived, in the fol¬ 
lowing June, at St. Petersburgh. Here he first be¬ 
came acquainted with the Caspian trade, then in its 
infancy, and, having an ardent desire to visit Persia, 
he made an offer to the Russian factors to proceed to 
that country in the capacity of their agent, which he was 
accordingly appointed, and set out in September. 

With his suite, consisting of an interpreter, a clerk, a Rus¬ 
sian servant, a Tartar boy, and a guard, and having under 
his care twenty carriage-loads of English cloth, he arrived at 
Moscow in ten days, whence, on the 24th, he proceeded to Za- 
ritzen, on the banks of the Volga, and, along that river, con¬ 
tinued his journey to Astrachan and Yerkie. Having now ar¬ 
rived at the Caspian, he embarked, on the 22d of November, 
and traversing the whole length of the sea from north to south, 
made a short stay at Langarood, and then made for Astrabad, 
which he reached on the 18th of December. After the inha¬ 
bitants had shown some apprehension at holding communication 
with a vessel which they at’first supposed to be that of a pirate, 
Mr. Hanway was allowed to land, and, while on shore, witnessed 
the woods of the neighbouring mountains on fire, the heat of 
which was so excessive that it is described by Mr. Pugh, the 


JONAS HANWAY. 


463 


biographer of Hanway, as “ causing the butter on board the 
ship to run like oil.” On his arrival at Astrabad, he was pre¬ 
sented to the governor, who received him in great state, and 
told him, in the eastern style of compliment, “ that the city of 
Astrabad was now his to do what he pleased with.” Having 
obtained the promise of an escort to Meshed, he had already 
sent part of his goods forward, and was preparing to set out 
himself for that city, when, to his great mortification, the go¬ 
vernor told him he could spare but one soldier to accompany 
him. This reply was succeeded by the arrival of intelligence 
still more distressing, and rendering the situation of Hanway 
extremely perilous. The town of Astrabad had been suddenly 
besieged by a party of rebels, and their leader declaring that 
he intended to seize the shah’s treasures and the European 
goods, the terrified inhabitants “cursed Mr. Hanway as the 
cause of their misfortune, by bringing so valuable a caravan 
into the city to attract the avarice of the rebels.” In this 
dilemma, he prudently declined following the advice of his at¬ 
tendants to escape in a disguise from the city, but retired to 
his apartment, and entered in his journal a prayer, which 
proves at once the elevated and resigned state of his mind amid 
the dangers which threatened him. “If, my God,” runs one 
of the passages, “ it is Thy will I now render back this vital 
heat which sprang from Thee; if Thy gracious providence has 
ordained that my life be now brought to an end by these un¬ 
thinking men, Thy will be done. Avert, 0 Lord, the destruc¬ 
tion that menaces them, and lay not my blood to their charge!” 

On the following morning, he was awoke by the noise of 
musketry, and was informed that the city had been taken. He 
was, shortly afterwards, visited by the captors, who declared 
they did not mean to hurt his person; but, on the contrary, as 
soon as ever their government was established, they would pay 
for the goods which they then seized, and informed him that 
the forty bales he had sent out laden on the camels were al¬ 
ready in their possession. His money was now demanded, 
when, he observes, “ as gold can purchase every thing except 
virtue and health, understanding and beauty, I reserved a purse 
of a hundred and sixty crowns, thinking it might administer to 
my safety.” After experiencing much insult and cruelty from 
the rebels, he resolved to leave Astrabad, and proceed to Ghi- 


464 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


Ian to seek protection of the shah, who was reported to be en¬ 
camped near that city. He had travelled on his way some dis¬ 
tance beyond the ruins of the palace of Farabad, once famous 
for the residence of the Persian kings, when the carriers, who 
had engaged to accompany him to Balfrush, the capital of Me- 
sanderan, refused to continue their journey, alleging that he 
was near the coast, and might go by sea. “ Accordingly,” says 
Mr. Pugh, “they conducted him and his attendants to a fisher¬ 
man’s hut on the sea-coast. The poor man had only an open 
boat, like a canoe, very leaky, and too small for six persons; 
besides, it could be navigated only with oars or paddles near the 
shore, where the surf then ran very high, and the sand banks, 
forming breakers, made the sea still more dangerous. He, 
therefore, again implored the carriers to furnish horses accord¬ 
ing to their engagement; but they treated his request with con¬ 
tempt. He threatened to use force, whereupon two of them, 
being armed with match-locks, lighted their matches ; two others 
had bows and arrows, and all of them, being six in number, 
had sabres. Mr. Hanway collected his company, among whom 
were four muskets, a blunderbus, and a pair of pistols; but, as 
he could not depend upon more than two of his servants, after 
a short parley, he submitted to run the risk of being drowned, 
rather than engage in a fray.” 

Embarking, therefore, in the canoe, he arrived safe at Tes- 
chidezar, where he was furnished with a horse and mules, and, 
on reaching Balfrush, was assured by the Persian merchants 
that the shah would make good his loss. “It was this escape,” 
says Mr. Pugh, “ which gave Mr. Hanway the idea of the 
motto he subsequently adopted, ‘Never despair.’” The ap¬ 
proach of the rebels to Balfrush was a new source of danger to 
him, and, sooner than again fall into their hands, he deter¬ 
mined to make his way out of the city alone, from which he 
escaped just in time, as the Tartars were entering at one gate 
while he was departing through another. After proceeding 
some distance, he fell in with a party who were conducting the 
baggage of a Persian chief; but the miserable horse on which 
he was mounted now sank to the ground with himself and his 
faithful Tartar boy, who had refused to be left behind at Bal¬ 
frush. In this situation, without guide, and understanding but 
little of the language of the country, he made his way to the 


JONAS HANWAY. 


465 


coast, passing in his way several rivers, over which he was car¬ 
ried gratis, on his plea of poverty, not daring to show the 
money he had concealed at Astrabad. He at length came up 
with the party of the Persian chief before mentioned, whom he 
calls “ the admiral,” and in whose train he found his clerk and 
servant. In the night, however, the admiral secretly departed, 
leaving Mr. Hanway without protection or provision—a base¬ 
ness which so exasperated him, that, though the night was dark 
and tempestuous, he immediately followed him, and, overtaking 
him, seized the bridle of the horse on which the admiral was 
mounted, and pronounced the word “ Shah” with the utmost 
emphasis. This had the desired effect; the admiral com¬ 
manded his vizier to take up Mr. Hanway behind him, and in 
this way he continued to travel to the shore of the Caspian, the 
surge of which threw down several of the horses of the party, 
and endangered the lives of their riders. He at length arrived 
at Langarood, where he was most hospitably received by Cap¬ 
tain Elton, after a journey of twenty-three days, during which 
he had once been without food for forty hours, and had not en¬ 
joyed one hour of security or unbroken sleep. 

Having rested a few days and recruited his strength and spi¬ 
rits, he proceeded through Reshed to Casbin, where he arrived 
on the 2d of March, 1744, and remained until the melting of 
the snow, by the reflection of which he had been almost blinded 
during his journey. He at length reached the camp of the 
shah, from whom he obtained a decree, “ that the particulars of 
his loss should be delivered to Behbud Khan, the shah’s gene¬ 
ral, now at Astrabad, who was to return such parts of the 
goods as could be recovered, and make up the deficiency out of 
the sequestered estates of the rebels.” On his way back to 
Astrabad, Hanway passed a month with Captain Elton, at 
Langarood, and set out for the former place on the 1st of May. 
In his way thither, he encountered many dangers, being fre¬ 
quently deserted by his guides and guards, and, on one occasion, 
having lost his path at night in a forest, he, on the refusal of 
the owner of a lonely house to admit him, broke open the door, 
and, tying a rope round his arms, compelled the man to conduct 
himself and his companions into their proper track. On his 
arrival at Astrabad, he presented the shah’s order to the gover¬ 
nor, who promised that it should be complied with to the letter. 

59 


466 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


He was, however, unable to procure the whole of the money 
due for his lost merchandise, and, after refusing to accept a 
number of female captives in part payment, he set out on his 
return to Russia, and arrived at Moscow on the 2‘2d of Decem¬ 
ber. He did not reach this city without having experienced 
many dangers and delays ; among the latter was his detention 
at Yerkie, where he had to undergo a quarantine of six weeks, 
at the end of which he was not permitted to depart until he had 
been stripped naked in the open air, and received on his body 
the contents of a pail of warm water. Letters reached him at 
Moscow, informing him of his accession to a large sum of mo¬ 
ney, in consequence of the death of a relation, an event upon 
which he observed, « Providence was thus indulgent to me, as 
if it meant to reward the sincerity of my endeavours.” On 
the 1st of January, 1745, he arrived at Petersburgh, where he 
engaged in commerce for about five years, at the expiration 
of which he returned to England, and, abandoning mercantile 
pursuits, employed himself in compiling the history of his tra¬ 
vels, and in a series of the most liberal and benevolent acts. 

In January, 1753, he published his travels, in four quarto 
volumes, under the title of “An Historical Account of the Cas¬ 
pian Trade over the Caspian Sea, with a Journal of Travels 
from London, through Russia into Persia, &c., to which are 
added the Revolutions of Persia during the present Century, 
with the particular History of the Great Usurper, Nadir 
Kouli.” The work was most favourably received ; but, shortly 
after its publication, the labour he had bestowed on it made 
such an inroad upon his health as to render it necessary for him 
to seek its renewal on the Continent. On his return home, 
towards the latter end of the last-mentioned year, the question 
respecting the expediency of naturalizing the Jews was a sub¬ 
ject of much discussion, when “ Hanway,” says Mr. St. John, 
“on most other occasions just and philanthropic, yielded, in 
this instance, to the force of narrow and inhuman prejudices, 
and argued in a pamphlet, now very properly condemned to 
oblivion, in favour of the absurd laws by which this portion of 
our fellow-creatures have been in so many countries excluded 
from the enjoyment of the rights of man.” Mr. Pugh, how¬ 
ever, says that it was the spirited opposition of Mr. Hanway to 
the naturalization of the Jews that laid the foundation of his 


JONAS HANWAY. 


467 


celebrity, as a public man, and goes so far as to assert that his 
writings on the subject were probably the principal means of 
causing the repeal of the act. In 1754, he endeavoured to call 
the attention of government to the bad state of the streets in 
London and Westminster, by a letter which he published on 
the subject to Mr. Spranger, on his excellent Proposals for Pav¬ 
ing, Cleansing, and Lighting the Streets of Westminster, &c. 
In the spring of the following year, appeared his “Thoughts on 
Invasion,” a publication which, in some measure, tended to quiet 
the minds of the people as to the probability of that event 
taking place on the part of the French. 

In 1756, he commenced those measures which finally led to 
the establishment of the Marine Society—« an institution,” 
says Mr. Pugh, “ not to be equalled for substantial utility and 
real national advantage by any undertaking in any age or 
country.” The object of the establishment was to fit out lands¬ 
men volunteers and boys to serve on board the king’s ships, 
which men and boys consisted, for the most part, of such wan¬ 
derers, beggars, or prisoners for petty offences, as chose to put 
themselves under the instructions of the society. “ We found,” 
says Mr. Hanway, in his address to the public in favour of the 
design, “ a great number of young fellows in danger of becom¬ 
ing a prey to vice through idleness, who, as soon as the garb of 
seamen was presented to them gratis, gladly entered into its 
service ; and a number of boys, loitering in filth and rags, and, 
as the forlorn hope of human nature, ready for any enterprise, 
and we considered that the preservation of such persons, and 
rendering them useful, promoted the great end of government 
and true policy in a double view.” The society met with gene¬ 
ral encouragement; the king’s donation was £1000, and, in 
1757, a silver anchor was voted to Mr. Hanway, for proposing, 
methodizing, and carrying the design into execution ; but it was 
not until 1772 that an act passed to make the governors of the 
Marine Society a body corporate. In the former year, he pub¬ 
lished his “Journey from Portsmouth to Kingston,” in which, says 
Mr. St. John, “he benevolently, but ridiculously, endeavoured 
to discourage the habit of tea-drinking,” an attempt that called 
forth a virulent and anonymous reply from Dr. Johnson, in 
“ The Literary Magazine.” In 1758, and the following year, 
Mr. Hanway made strenuous exertions to improve the “Found- 


468 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ling,” and to establish the Magdalen Hospital, for the recep¬ 
tion of penitent prostitutes, of which he is considered the 
founder. The women who had reaped the benefit of this insti¬ 
tution, he took great delight in entertaining at his own house, 
where he gave them his best advice, generally accompanied, 
says Mr. Pugh, with a small present. The small works which 
he wrote in support of the above institutions w r ere succeeded 
by one entitled, “ Reasons for an Additional Number of Twelve 
Thousand Seamen to be employed in time of Peace in the Mer¬ 
chants’ Service,” and another, advocating the cause of the 
orphan poor, called “ Serious Considerations on the Salutary 
Designs of the Act for a Regular Uniform Register of the 
Parish Poor,” 

In 1762, Mr. Hanway published Eight Letters to the Duke 

of-, supposed to be the Duke of Newcastle, in which he 

ridicules the practice of giving vails, or visiting-fees, to ser¬ 
vants, a custom which, at that time, had arrived at a very ex¬ 
travagant pitch. He was recommended to take up the subject 
by Sir Thomas Waldo, who, at the same time, communicated to 
Mr. Hanway an anecdote illustrative of the excess to which 
the practice was carried. On leaving the house of the duke 
alluded to, Sir Thomas, after having feed a train of other 
servants, put a crown into the hands of the cook, who returned 
it, saying, “ Sir, I do not take silver.” « Don’t you, indeed?” 
said the baronet, putting it in his pocket; “ then I do not give 
gold.” Mr. Hanway also himself relates a somewhat similar 
circumstance. He was paying the servants of a friend for 
a dinner, which their masters had invited him to, one by one, 
as they appeared:—“ Sir, your great-coat.” “ A shilling.”— 
“Your hat.” “A shilling.”—“Stick.” “A shilling.”— 
“Umbrella.” “A shilling.”—“Sir, your gloves.” “Why, 
friend, you may keep the gloves ; they are not worth a shil- 
ling.” 

Such was the universal esteem Mr. Hanway had acquired by 
his benevolent exertions, that, in the last-mentioned year, a 
deputation of five citizens of London waited on the minister, 
Lord Bute, requesting that he would confer some appointment 
on the subject of our memoir, who was accordingly, on the 17th 
of July, made one of the commissioners for victualling the navy. 
He shortly afterwards took a large house in Red Lion Square, 



JONAS HANWAY. 


469 


which he decorated in a style peculiar to himself, with paint¬ 
ings and emblematical devices, in order, as he said, to furnish 
topics of discourse to his countrymen and countrywomen, who, 
he used to observe, were by no means au fait in the art of con¬ 
versation. In 1773, he pleaded the cause of another class of 
unfortunate human beings, in a publication called « The State 
of the Chimney Sweepers’ Apprentices,” for whose relief he 
promoted a subscription, under the direction of a committee. 
He continued to pursue an uninterrupted course of benevolence 
until his death, which took place on the 5th of September, 
1786. Three years previous to which, ill health had compelled 
him to resign his office at the victualling board. His last mo¬ 
ments were marked by singular calmness and Christian resig¬ 
nation, and, anxious to the last for the welfare of his fellow- 
creatures, he said to the surgeon, on the day of his death, “If 
you think it will be of service in your practice, or to any one 
who may come after me, I beg you will have my body opened. 
I am willing to do as much good as is possible.” 

No better estimate, perhaps, of the character of Mr. Han- 
way can be formed than by comparing it with that of the truly 
illustrious Howard. Like the latter, in exhausted in striking 
out resources of beneficence, and indefatigable in carrying 
them into execution, the former dedicated his long life to public 
works of mercy. Numerous and successful, however, as are 
those we have already recorded, they afford but an imperfect 
idea of his liberality and philanthropy. He was too unosten¬ 
tatious to suffer his private acts of charity to be known; but 
the necessity for his accepting a retiring pension in his seventy- 
first year, furnishes an honourable clue to an estimate of the 
probable extent of them; and his publications in the cause of 
religion and humanity, to the number of nearly seventy, ren¬ 
der any attempt at enlargement upon his public zeal and devo¬ 
tion unnecessary. In addition to the share he had in the for¬ 
mation of the institutions already mentioned, the foundation of 
Sunday-schools is chiefly attributable to his writings. 

“In person,” says Mr. Pugh, “Mr. Ilanway was of the mid¬ 
dle size; of a thin, spare habit, but well shaped; his limbs 
were fashioned with the nicest symmetry. In the latter years 
of his life, he stooped very much, and, when he walked, found 
it conduce to his ease to let his head incline towards one side; 

2 R 


470 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


but, when he first went to Russia, his face was full and comely, 
and his person altogether such as obtained for him the appella¬ 
tion of the Handsome Englishman.” He was never married, 
having been captivated, while at Lisbon, by the charms of a 
lady whom, to put a second-hand idea of Mr. Moore’s into 
prose, he thought it far more sweet to live in the remembrance 
of than to dwell with others. Mr. Pugh relates many peculiari¬ 
ties in Mr. Hanway’s character. He W’as fond of a joke him¬ 
self, and of the convivialities of others, to a certain extent ; 
but, “ if the mirth degenerated into a boisterous laughter, he 
took his leave, saying afterwards, ‘ My companions were too 
merry to be happy or to let me be happy, so I left them.’ ” 
He adhered to truth with an almost ascetic strictness, and no 
brilliancy of thought could induce him to vary from the fact. 
Though frank and open in his dealings with all, he was not 
easily deceived by others, and seldom placed a confidence that 
was betrayed. He did not, however, think the world so dege¬ 
nerate as is commonly imagined; “and if I did,” he used to 
say, “ I would not let it appear ; for nothing can tend so effect¬ 
ually to make a man wicked, or to keep him so, as a marked 
suspicion.” He never took any of his servants from the recom¬ 
mendation of his friends ; but commonly advertised for them, 
appointing their applications to be left at some tavern. One 
that he was about to hire having expressed some surprise at his 
being desired to attend family prayers every evening, Mr. Han- 
way asked him if he had any objection to say his prayers. “ No, 
sir,” replied the man, “ I’ve no objection ; but I hope you’ll 
consider it in my wages.” At another time, having given a 
little chimney-sweeper a shillipg, and promised to buy him a fine 
tie-wig to wear on May-day, “ Ah, bless your honour !” replied 
the sweep ; “ my master won’t let me go out on May-day.” 
“ No ! why not ?” “ He says it’s low life.” Mr. Hanway pos¬ 

sessed some eccentricity of dress as well as of manner, and is 
said to have been the first who appeared in the streets of the 
metropolis with an umbrella. About two years after his death, 
a monument was erected to his memory, by public subscription, 
in Westminster Abbey. 


SIR WILLIAM JONES. 


471 


SIR WILLIAM JONES. 



ILLIAM JONES, the son of an eminent ma¬ 
thematician, was born in London, in the year 
1746. Losing his father, when only three 
years of age, he was left to the entire care 
of his mother, a woman of strong mind and 
good sense, and from whom he imbibed an 
early taste for literature. In 1753, he was 
sent to Harrow School, where he soon at¬ 
tracted the attention of the masters, and the 
admiration of his associates, by his extraordinary 
diligence and superior talents. Among his school¬ 
fellows were Dr. Parr, and Bennett, afterwards 
Bishop of Cloyne, who, in speaking of young Jones, 
at the age of eight or nine, says, he was even then 
“ an uncommon boy.” Describing his subsequent pro¬ 
gress at Harrow, he says, “great abilities, great parti¬ 
cularity of thinking, fondness for writing verses and plays of 
various kinds, and a degree of integrity and manly courage, 
distinguished him even at that period. I loved him and re¬ 
vered him, and, though one or two years older than he was, was 
always instructed by him from my earliest age.” Such was his 
devotion to study, that he used to pass whole nights over his 
books, until his eyesight became affected; and Dr. Thackeray r 
the master of Harrow, said, “so active was the mind of Jones,, 
that if he were left, naked and friendless, on Salisbury Plain, 
he would, nevertheless, find the road to fame and riches.’ 

In 1764, he was entered at University College, Oxford, in 
opposition to the wishes of his friends, who advised his mother 
to place him under the superintendence of some special pleader, 
as at that early age he had made such a voluntary progress in 
legal acquirements, as to be able to put cases from an abridg- 


472 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ment of Coke’s Institutes. At the university, instead of con¬ 
fining himself to the usual discipline, he continued the course 
of classical reading which he had commenced at Harrow', and 
devoted a considerable portion of his time to the study of the 
oriental languages. During his vacations, which he generally 
spent in London, he learned riding and fencing; and at home 
he occupied himself in the perusal of the best Italian, Spanish, 
French, and Portuguese authors. In 1765, he became private 
tutor to Lord Althorpe, the son of Earl Spencer; and shortly 
afterwards he was elected Fellow 7 on the foundation of Sir Simon 
Bennett. 

In 1767, he accompanied the Spencer family to Germany; 
and whilst at Spa, he learned dancing, the broad-sword exercise, 
music, besides the art of playing on the Welsh harp; “ thus,” 
to transcribe an observation of his own, “with the fortune of a 
peasant, giving himself the education of a prince.” On his 
return, he resided with his pupil at Harrow, and, during his 
abode there, he translated into French the life of Nadir Shah 
from the Persian, at the request of the King of Denmark. 
After making another tour, he gave up his tutorship, and, in 
September, 1770, entered himself a student of the Temple, for 
the purpose of studying for the bar. He took this step in 
compliance with the earnest solicitations of his friends. “ Their 
advice,” he says, in a letter to his friend Reviczki, was conform¬ 
able to my own inclinations; for the only road to the highest 
stations in this country is that of the law; and I need not add 
how ambitious and laborious I am.” The mode in which he 
occupied himself in chambers is best described by his own pen, 
in a letter to his friend, Dr. Bennett:—“ I have learned so 
much,” he says; “ seen so much, written so much, said so much, 
and thought so much, since I conversed with you, that were I 
to attempt to tell half what I have learned, seen, writ, said, and 
thought, my letter wrnuld have no end. I spend the whole winter 
in attending the public speeches of our greatest lawyers and 
senators, and in studying our own admirable laws. I give up 
my leisure hours to a Political Treatise on the Turks, from 
which I expect some reputation ; and I have several objects of 
ambition which I cannot trust to a letter, but will impart to you 
when we meet.” In the midst of all these engagements he 
found time to attend Dr. William Hunter’s lectures on anatomy, 


SIR WILLIAM JONES. 


473 


and to read Newton’s Principia; and in 1772, he published a 
collection of poems, consisting, prindipally, of translations from 
the Asiatic languages. In the same year he was elected a Fel¬ 
low of the Royal Society; and, in 1774, appeared his celebrated 
commentaries “De Poesi Asiatic^,” which procured him great 
reputation both at home and abroad. 

Being now called to the bar, he suspended all literary pur¬ 
suits, and devoted himself, with intense earnestness, to the study 
of his profession. In 1775, he became a regular attendant at 
Westminster Hall, and went the circuit and sessions at Oxford; 
and in the following year he was, without solicitation, made a 
commissioner of bankrupt, by Lord Chancellor Bathurst. It 
would seem, from the correspondence of our author, that soon 
after his call to the bar, he acquired considerable practice, as 
he says, in a letter to Mr. Schultens, dated July, 1777, “ My 
law employments, attendance in the courts, incessant studies, 
the arrangement of pleadings, trials of causes, and opinions to 
clients, scarcely allow me a few moments for eating and sleep¬ 
ing.” In 1778, he published his “ Translation of the Orations 
of Isseus, with a Prefatory Discourse, Notes, and Commentary,” 
which displayed profound critical and historical research, and 
excited much admiration. In March, 1780, he published a 
Latin Ode in favour of American Freedom ; and, shortly after¬ 
wards, on the resignation of Sir Roger Newdigate, he was in¬ 
duced to become a candidate for the representation of the Uni¬ 
versity of Oxford; but the liberality of his political principles 
rendering his success hopeless, he declined a poll. The tumults 
of this year induced him to write a pamphlet, entitled “ An In¬ 
quiry into the Legal Mode of suppressing Riots, with a Constitu¬ 
tional Plan of Future Defence ;” and about the same period he 
published his celebrated “Essayon the Law of Bailments,” in 
which he treated his subject, says Mr. Roscoe, with an accuracy 
of method hitherto seldom exhibited by legal writers. In 
1782, he spoke at a public meeting in favour of parliamentary 
reform, and also became a member of the Society for Constitu¬ 
tional Reformation. In a letter to the Dean of St. Asaph, this 
year, he says it is “ his wish to become as great a lawyer as 
Sulpicius;” and hints at giving up politics, to the resignation 
of which he was the more inclined in consequence of a bill of 
indictment being preferred against the divine above-mentioned, 
60 2s2 


474 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


for publishing a tract, composed by Jones, entitled “ A Dialogue 
between a Farmer and a Country Gentleman, on the Principles 
of Government.” Of this our author immediately avowed him¬ 
self the writer, by a letter addressed to Lord Kenyon, in whioh 
he defended his positions, and contended that they were con¬ 
formable to the laws of England. 

His political principles had for some time prevented him ob¬ 
taining the grand object of his ambition,—an Indian judgeship; 
but he was at length, in March, 1783, appointed judge of the 
Supreme Court of Judicature in Bengal, through the influence 
of Lord Ashburton. Previous to his departure he received the 
honour of knighthood, and married Miss Shipley, daughter to 
the Bishop of St. Asaph, with whom he arrived in Calcutta, in 
September, and entered upon his judicial functions in the fol¬ 
lowing December. Law, literature, and philosophy, now en¬ 
grossed his attention to such a degree, that his health, on which 
the climate also had a prejudicial influence, was quickly im¬ 
paired. In a letter to Dr. Patrick Russell, dated March, 1784, 
he says, “ I do not expect, so long as I stay in India, to be free 
from a bad digestion, the morbus literatorum , for which there is 
hardly any remedy but abstinence from too much food, literary 
and culinary. I rise before the sun, and bathe after a gentle 
ride; my diet is light and sparing, and I go early to rest; yet 
the activity of my mind is too strong for my constitution, 
though naturally not infirm, and I must be satisfied with a vale¬ 
tudinarian state of health.” Soon after his arrival he projected 
the scheme of the Asiatic Society, of which he became the first 
president, and contributed many papers to its memoirs. With 
a view to rendering himself a proficient in the science of San¬ 
scrit and Hindu laws, he studied the Sanscrit and Arabic lan¬ 
guages with great ardour; and while on a tour through the dis¬ 
trict of Benares, for the recovery of his health, he composed a 
tale, in verse, called “ The Enchanted Fruit,” and “A Treatise on 
the Gods of Greece, Italy, and India.” In 1790, he appears to 
have received an offer of some augmentation of his salary, as, 
in a letter of that year to Sir James Macpherson, he says, 
“ really I want no addition to my fortune, which is enough for 
me; and if the whole legislature of Britain were to offer me a 
station different from that I now fill, I should most gratefully 
and respectfully decline it.” He continued, with indefatigable 


SIR WILLIAM JONES. 


475 


/ 

zeal, his compilation of the Hindoo and Mohammedan Digest; 
on the completion of which he was to have followed his wife to 
England, who had proceeded thither, for the recovery of her 
health, in the December of 1793. This intention, however, he 
did not live to carry into effect, being shortly afterwards at¬ 
tacked with an inflammation of the liver, which terminated his 
existence on the 27th of April, 1794. His epitaph, written 
by himself, is equally admirable for its truth and its ele¬ 
gance :— 

Here was deposited 
the mortal part of a man 
who feared God, but not death; 
and maintained independence, 
but sought not riches; 
who thought none below him 
but the base and unjust; 
none above him but the wise and virtuous; 
who loved his parents, kindred, friends, and country, 
and having devoted his life to their service, 
and the improvement of his mind, 
resigned it calmly, giving glory to his Creator, 
wishing peace on earth, 
and good-will to all his creatures. 

His character was, indeed, truly estimable in every respect. 
“To exquisite taste and learning quite unparalleled,” says Dr. 
Parr, “ Sir William Jones is known to have united the most 
benevolent temper and the purest morals.” His whole life was 
one unceasing struggle for the interests of his fellow-creatures, 
and, unconnected with this object, he knew no ambition. He 
was a sincere and pious Christian; and in one of his latest dis¬ 
courses to the Asiatic Society, he has done more to give validity 
to the Mosaic account of the creation, than the researches of 
any contemporary writers. His acquirements as a linguist were 
absolutely wonderful: he understood, critically, English, Latin, 
French, Italian, Greek, Arabic, Persian, and Sanscrit; he could 
translate, with the aid of a dictionary, the Spanish, Portuguese, 
German, Runic, Hebrew, Bengalee, Hindu, and Turkish; and 
he had bestowed considerable attention on the Russian, Swedish, 
Coptic, Welsh, Chinese, Dutch, Syriac, and several other lan¬ 
guages. In addition to his vast stock of literary information, 
he possessed extensive legal knowledge; and, so far as we may 


476 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


judge from his translations, had sufficient capacity and taste for 
a first-rate original poet. His indefatigable application and 
industry have, perhaps, never been equalled. Even when in ill 
health he rose at three in the morning, and what were called 
his hours of relaxation, were devoted to studies, which would 
have appalled the most vigorous minds. In 1799, his widow 
published a splendid edition of his works, in six volumes, folio, 
and placed, at her own expense, a marble statue of him, exe¬ 
cuted by Flaxman, in the anti-chamber of University College, 
Oxford; and, among other public testimonies of respect to his 
memory, the directors of the East India Company voted him a . 
monument in St. Paul’s Cathedral, and a statue in Bengal. 


WILLIAM ROMAINE. 


477 


WILLIAM ROMAINE. 



" RIVEN by persecution from France upon the 
revocation of the edict of Nantes, the father 
of this divine sought refuge in England, and 
settled at Hartlepool, Durham, where his son 
William was born, on the 25th of September, 
1714. After having passed seven years at 
the grammar-school of Houghton-le-Spring, 
he was sent to Hertford College, Oxford; whence 
he was removed to that of Christ Church, where 
he proceeded B. A. in 1734, and M. A. in 1737. 
He officiated for some time as curate of Loe Trench- 
’ ard, in Devonshire; and afterwards as curate of 
Banstead and Horton, near Epsom, where he became 
acquainted with Sir Daniel Lambert, who, on being 
chosen Lord Mayor of London, in 1741, appointed him 
his chaplain. Romaine had previously (in 1739) at¬ 
tracted some public notice, by entering into a controversy with 
Warburton, relative to the opinions avowed by the latter in his 
“Divine Legation of Moses.” In 1742, he much increased his 
reputation by publishing a discourse, entitled “ Jephtha’s Vow 
Fulfilled and his Daughter not Sacrificed,” which he had deli¬ 
vered before the University of Oxford; whence, however, he 
was, some time afterwards, excluded as a preacher, for advocat¬ 
ing in a sermon, called “ The Lord our Righteousness,” those 
Calvinistic doctrines, by his staunch adherence to which, he at 
length became remarkably popular. 

In 1748, he obtained the lectureship of St. Botolph’s, Bil¬ 
lingsgate, and subsequently that of St. Dunstan’s-in-the-West. 
In 1749, he published an edition of “ Calasius’ Concordance;” 
in which, although the work obtained him great credit, he was 
charged with having given some unwarrantable interpretations 


478 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


of certain passages of Scripture, with a view to support the 
doctrines of the Hutchinsonians. 

He was appointed assistant morning preacher at St. George’s, 
Hanover Square, in the following year; hut he soon received 
notice, as his biographer, Cadogan, states, “ that the crowd of 
people attending from various parts, (to hear him preach,) caused 
great inconvenience to the inhabitants, who could not safely get 
to their seats.” Romaine admitted the fact, and placidly con¬ 
sented to relinquish his office. 

About the year 1752, he was appointed Gresham professor 
of astronomy; in 1756, he officiated as curate of St. Olave’s, 
Southwark; and, in 1759, he became morning preacher at 
St. Bartholomew the Great, Smithfield. In 1764, he was 
elected to the rectory of St. Andrew, Wardrobe, and St. Anne, 
Blackfriars; where he remained up to the time of his decease, 
wffiich took place on the 26th of July, 1795. “ In his last ill¬ 

ness,” observes Simpson, “not one fretful or murmuring word 
ever escaped his lips. ‘I have,’ said he, ‘the peace of God in 
my conscience, and the love of God in my heart. I knew be¬ 
fore, the doctrines I preached to be the truths, but now I expe¬ 
rience them to be blessings. Jesus is more precious than rubies; 
and all that can be desired on earth is not to be compared to 
him.’ He was in the full possession of his mental powers to 
the last moment, and near his dissolution cried out, < Holy, holy, 
holy, Lord God Almighty ! Glory be to thee on high, for such 
peace on earth and good will to men !’ ” His character in pri¬ 
vate life, although his temper was hasty, is said to have been 
remarkably amiable. He married, in 1755, a young lady named 
Price, by whom he had three children. 

Besides his religious tracts, eight volumes of his sermons have 
been published. His “Walk of Faith” and “Triumph of Faith” 
are still held in high estimation. He was for above thirty years 
one of the most popular preachers in the metropolis. His grand 
point was the doctrine of imputed righteousness; and he con¬ 
stantly maintained works to be subordinate to faith, which he 
declared to be “ the sheet-anchor of the soul.” He occasionally 
engaged in itinerant labours as a preacher; and thus, it is ob¬ 
served, placed himself in the foremost rank of Calvinistic 
Methodists. The language of his sermons was plain and un¬ 
adorned ; but his delivery was enthusiastic; and he always, by 


WILLIAM ROMAINE. 


479 


his manner, impressed a belief on those who heard him that he was 
sincere. It has been said of him that he appealed rather to the 
heart than to the head; still, his discourses to the reader appear 
to be far from deficient in calm ratiocination. He warmly op¬ 
posed the bill for naturalizing the Jews; his productions against 
which were printed at the expense of the corporation of London. 
His fame as a preacher was at one time so great, that booksel¬ 
lers offered him, but without effect, large sums for permission to 
place his name in the title-pages of religious compilations. A 
publisher named Pasham, it is said, took a house on Finchley 
Common, for the purpose of printing a beautiful edition of the 
Bible, in imitation of Field’s, with annotations by Romaine, so 
managed that they might be cut off: “ an artifice,” as Nichols 
observes, “ to evade the patent enjoyed by the king’s printer.” 

The following singular circumstance is recorded of this emi¬ 
nent divine:—After he had been for some time in London, find¬ 
ing his ministry unsuccessful, he resolved on settling in his 
native county, (where he might probably have passed his days 
unnoticed as a curate,) and was actually on his way to the water¬ 
side, for the purpose of securing his passage, when a stranger 
accosted him, and inquired if his name was Romaine. The 
divine answered in the affirmative. “ So I suspected,” said the 
stranger, “ by the strong likeness you bear to your father, with 
whom I was w r ell acquainted.” A conversation ensued; in the 
course of which, Romaine admitted that he was about to depart 
for Durham, in consequence of his failure of obtaining prefer¬ 
ment in the metropolis. The stranger, however, persuaded him 
to abandon his intended voyage, by stating that he thought he 
had sufficient interest in the parish of St. Botolph, to procure him 
the lectureship of that parish, which then happened to be vacant. 
Success attended his exertions; and Romaine, who considered 
the stranger’s accost as an interposition of Divine providence, 
thenceforth rapidly increased in estimation as a preacher. The 
circumstance was in fact the foundation of his subsequent 
eminence. 


480 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JOSEPH BUTLER. 



0 man has conferred more honour upon the 
Episcopal bench than the author of “ The 
Analogy.” He was the son of a shopkeeper, 
a Presbyterian dissenter, and was born at 
Wantage, in Berkshire, in 1692. After re¬ 
ceiving the rudiments of education at the free 
grammar-school of his native place, he was sent 
to a Presbyterian academy, at Tewkesbury, with 
a view to his becoming a pastor in his own com¬ 
munion. His progress in the study of divinity 
was rapid; hut his mind became tainted with skep¬ 
ticism, and in November, 1713, he commenced a 
series of anonymous private letters to Dr. Clarke, in 
which he stated many acute, hut untenable objections 
to the arguments of that divine, in his “ Demonstration 
of the Being and Attributes of a God.” 

He next proceeded to examine the points of controversy be¬ 
tween the members of his own communion and those of the 
established church; and at length he determined to conform. 
In March, 1714, he was admitted a commoner of Oriel College, 
Oxford; and, having been ordained, procured partly through 
Dr. Clarke’s interest, the office of preacher at the Rolls. In 
1721, he took the degree of B. C. L., and, in 1726, published a 
volume of sermons, which procured him considerable reputation. 
The Bishop of Durham, to whom he had been introduced by 
that prelate’s son, Mr. Edward Talbot, his fellow-collegian at 
Oriel, presented him, in 1722, to the rectory of Haughton; and 
in 1725 to the living of Stanhope. At the latter cure he resided 
a number of years, discharging his pastoral duties greatly to 
the satisfaction of his parishioners. At length, Seeker, whom 
he had persuaded to take holy orders, procured him the appoint¬ 
ment of chaplain to the lord chancellor, and recommended him 




JOSEPH BUTLER. 


481 


to the notice of Queen Caroline, who appointed him her clerk 
of the closet. Previously to his obtaining the latter preferment, 
he had been admitted to the degree of D. C. L., and nominated 
by the lord chancellor a prebendary of Rochester. In 1736, he 
published his great work, “ The Analogy of Religion, Natural 
and Revealed, to the Constitution and Course of Nature;” which 
has with much justice been designated one of the most excellent 
theological works extant. Dr. Wood, the Dean of Ely, when some 
opposition was made to the severe examination in “ The Analogy,” 
which all students undergo, during the third year of their residence 
at St. John’s College, Cambridge, of which he was master, is 
said to have observed, that “ ’bate the Bible, it was the best 
book he knew!” In 1738, Butler was consecrated Bishop of 
Bristol; and in 1740 made Dean of St. Paul’s. He now resigned 
his living at Stanhope, and devoted his attention solely to the 
duties of the deanery and see. In 1746, he was nominated clerk 
of the closet to George II.; by whom, in October, 1750, he was 
translated to the bishopric of Durham. His primary charge to 
the clergy of his new diocese, in which he advocated the efficacy 
of religious forms and ceremonies as tending to the advance of 
piety, somewhat strengthened a suspicion, which had previously 
been entertained, on account of his having set up a cross in his 
chapel at Bristol, that his principles were verging on popery; 
and, after his decease, a report prevailed that he had died a 
Roman Catholic; but Porteus and Stinton, in their “ Life of 
Seeker,” have satisfactorily shown that such was not the fact. 

Bishop Butler appears to have been eminently pious, chari¬ 
table, eloquent, and learned. While Bishop of Bristol, he ex¬ 
pended more than a year’s revenue of the see in repairing the 
Episcopal palace. He contributed munificently to various 
infirmaries, and left a large bequest to the Society for Propa¬ 
gating the Gospel in Foreign Parts. He was remarkably hos¬ 
pitable to his clergy, the poorest of whom he frequently visited, 
without ostentation, and they in return were at all times wel¬ 
come to his palace. He died unmarried at Bath, on the 16th of 
June, 1752, and his remains were interred in Bristol Cathedral. 


61 


2 S 


482 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


RALPH CUDWORTH. 



ALPH CUDWORTH, (1617-1688) is cele¬ 
brated as a very learned divine and philoso¬ 
pher of this age. He studied at the Uni¬ 
versity of Cambridge, where, during the thirty 
years succeeding 1645, he held the office of 
regius professor of Hebrew. His principal 
work, which is entitled “The True Intellectual 
System of the Universe,” was published in 1678, 
and is designed as a refutation of the atheistical 
tenets which at that time were extensively held 
; in England. It executes only a portion of his 
design; namely, the establishment of the following 
three propositions, which he regarded as the funda¬ 
mentals or essentials of true religion: “First, that all 
things in the world do not float without a head and 
governor; but that there is a God, an omnipotent under¬ 
standing being, presiding over all. Secondly, that this God 
being essentially good and just, there is something in its own 
nature immutably and eternally just and unjust; and not by 
arbitrary will, law, and command only. And lastly, that we 
are so far forth principals or masters of our own actions, as to 
be accountable to justice for them, or to make us guilty and 
blame-worthy for what we do amiss, and to deserve punishment 
accordingly.” From this statement by Cudworth in his preface, 
the reader will observe that he maintained, (in opposition to two 
of the leading doctrines of Hobbes,) first, the existence of a 
natural and everlasting distinction between justice and injustice; 
and secondly, the freedom of the human will. On the former 
point he differs from most subsequent opponents of Hobbism, 
in ascribing our consciousness of the natural difference of right 
and wrong entirely to the reasoning faculties, and in no degree 
to sentiment or emotion. As, however, he confines his attention, 


RALPH CUDWORTH. 


488 


in the “ Intellectual System,” to the first essential of true re¬ 
ligion enumerated in the passage just quoted, ethical questions 
are in that work but incidentally and occasionally touched upon. 
In combating the atheists, he displays a prodigious amount of 
erudition, and that rare degree of candour which prompts a 
controversialist to give a full statement of the opinions and 
arguments which he means to refute. This fairness brought 
upon him the reproach of insincerity; and by a contemporary 
Protestant theologian the epithets of Arian, Socinian, Deist, 
and even Atheist, were freely applied to him. « He has raised,” 
says Dryden, “such strong objections against the being of a 
God and Providence, that many think he has not answered 
them —“ the common fate,” as Lord Shaftesbury remarks on 
this occasion, “ of those who dare to appear fair authors.” This 
clamour seems to have disheartened the philosopher, who re¬ 
frained from publishing the other portions of his scheme. He 
left, however, several manuscript works, one of which, entitled 
“ A Treatise concerning Eternal and Immutable Morality,” but 
only introductory in its character, was published in 1731, by 
Dr. Chandler, Bishop of Durham. His unprinted writings 
are now in the British Museum, and include treatises on Moral 
Good and Evil, Liberty and Necessity, the Creation of the 
.World, and the Immortality of the Soul, the Learning of the 
Hebrews, and Hobbes’s Notions concerning the Nature of God 
and the Extension of Spirits. Mr. Dugald Stewart, speaking 
of the two published works, observes, that “The Intellectual 
System” of Cudworth embraces a field much wider than his 
treatise of “ Immutable Morality.” The latter is particularly 
directed against the doctrines of Hobbes, and of the Antino- 
mians; but the former aspires to tear up by the roots all the 
principles, both physical and metaphysical, of the Epicurean 
philosophy. It is a work, certainly, which reflects much honour 
on the talents of the author, and still more on the boundless 
extent of his learning; but it is so ill-suited to the taste of the 
present age, that, since the time of Mr. Harris and Dr. Price, 
I scarcely recollect the slightest reference to it in the writings of 
our British metaphysicians. Of its faults, (besides the general 
disposition of the author to discuss questions placed altogethei 
beyond the reach of our faculties,) the most prominent is the 
wild hypothesis of a plastic nature ; or, in other words, “ of 


484 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

a vital and spiritual, but unintelligent and necessary agent, 
created by the Deity for the execution of his purposes.” 
Notwithstanding, however, these and many other abatements 
of its merits, the “ Intellectual System” will for ever remain a 
precious mine of information to those whose curiosity may lead 
them to study the spirit of the ancient theories. A Latin 
translation of this work was published by Moshiem, at Jena, 
in 1733. 


JOHN FLAVEL. 


485 


JOHN FLAVEL. 



OHN FLAVEL, an eminent nonconformist 
minister, was educated at University College, 
Oxford; and became minister of Deptford, 
and afterwards of Dartmouth, in Devon¬ 
shire, where he resided the greater part of 
, his life, and was much admired. Though he 
> was generally respected at Dartmouth, yet, in 
1685, several of the aldermen of that town, 
attended by the rabble, carried about a ridiculous 
effigy of him, to which were affixed the Bill of 
Exclusion, and the Covenant. He therefore 
thought it prudent to withdraw from the town; 
not knowing what treatment he might meet with 
from a riotous mob, headed by magistrates who were 
themselves among the lowest of mankind. Part of 
his diary, printed with his “ Remains,” give a high idea 
of his piety. He died in 1691, aged 61; and after his death, 
his works, consisting of many pieces of practical divinity, were 
printed in two volumes, folio. Among these, the most famous 
are, “Navigation Spiritualized;” “Divine Conduct, or the 
Mysteries of Providence and, « Husbandry Spiritualized 
of all which there have been many editions in octavo. Flavel’s 
writings are deservedly popular, from their fervent spirit of 
piety, as well as from their rich, though rather quaint style; 
and their abounding in familiar illustrations drawn from the 
ordinary pursuits of life. Some of them have been repeatedly 
reprinted in this country. 


2 s 2 



486 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


EDMUND CALAMY. 



DMUND CALAMY, an eminent Presbyterian 
divine, born at London in 1600, and educated 
at Cambridge, where his attachment to the 
Arminian party excluded him from a fellow¬ 
ship. Dr. Felton, bishop of Ely, however, 
made him his chaplain; and, in 1639, he was 
chosen minister of St. Mary Aldermary, in 
London. Upon the opening of the Long Parlia¬ 
ment, he distinguished himself, in defence of the 
Presbyterian cause; and had a principal hand in 
writing the famous Smectymnus, which, he says, 
gave the first deadly blow to episcopacy. The 
authors of this tract were five; the initials of whose 
names formed the name under which it was published, 
viz. Stephen Marshal, Edmund Calamy, Thomas 
Young, Matthew Newcomen, and William Sparstow. 
He was afterwards an active member in the Assembly of Divines, 
was a strenuous opposer of sectaries, and used his utmost en¬ 
deavours to prevent those violences committed after the king 
was brought from the Isle of Wight. In Cromwell’s time, he 
lived privately, but was assiduous in promoting the king’s return; 
for which he was afterwards offered a bishopric, but refused it. 
He was ejected for nonconformity, in 1662; and died of grief 
at the sight of the great fire of London, in 1666. 


EDMUND CALAMY. 


487 


EDMUND CALAMY, 



RANDSON of the preceding, by his eldest son 
Mr. Edmund Calamy, who was ejected out of the 
living of Moxton in Essex, on St. Bartholomew’s 
day, 1662. He was born in London, April 5, 
1671. After having learned the languages, 
and gone through a course of natural philoso¬ 
phy and logic, at a private academy in England, 
he studied philosophy and civil law at the uni¬ 
versity of Utrecht, and attended the lectures of 
the learned Grsevius. While he resided there, an 
offer of a professor’s chair in the university of 
Edinburgh was made him by Principal Carstairs, sent 
over on purpose to find a person properly qualified for 
the office. This he declined, and returned to England 
in 1691, bringing with him letters from Grrasvius to Pro¬ 
fessors Pocock and Bernard, who obtained leave for him 
to prosecute his studies in the Bodleian library. He entered 
into an examination of the controversy between the conformists 
and the nonconformists, which determined him to join the latter; 
and coming to London in 1692, he was unanimously chosen 
assistant to Mr. Matthew Sylvester, at Blackfriars; and in 
1674, ordained at Mr. Annesly’s meeting-house. In 1702, he 
was chosen one of the lecturers in Salter’s Hall; and in 1703, 
succeeded Mr. Vincent Alsopin Westminster. He drew up the 
table of contents to Mr. Baxter’s “ History of his Life and 
Times,” which was sent to the press in 1696; made some re¬ 
marks on the work itself, and added to it an index ; and, reflect¬ 
ing on the usefulness of the book, he saw the expediency of 
continuing it, as it came no lower than 1684. Accordingly, 
he composed an abridgment of it, with an account of many 
other ministers, who were ejected after the Restoration; their 
apology, containing the grounds of their nonconformity; and a 



488 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


continuation of their history till 1691. This work was published 
in 1702. He afterwards published a moderate defence of non¬ 
conformity, in tracts, in answer to Dr. Hoadly. In 1709, he 
made a tour to Scotland; and had the degree of D. D. con. 
ferred on him by the Universities of Edinburgh, Aberdeen, and 
Glasgow. In 1713, he published a second edition of his 
“ Abridgment of Baxter’s History, in which, among other 
additions, there is a continuation of the history through, King 
William’s reign and Queen Anne’s, down to the passing of the 
occasional bill; and in the close is subjoined the reformed 
liturgy, which was drawn up and presented to the bishops in 
1661, “ that the world may judge,” he says, “ how fairly the 
ejected ministers have been often represented as irreconcileable 
enemies to all liturgies.” In 1718, he wrote a vindication of 
his grandfather and others, against certain reflections cast upon 
them by Mr. Echard, in his “ History of Englandand in 
1728, appeared the continuation of the account of the ministers, 
lecturers, masters, and fellows of colleges, and schoolmasters, 
who were ejected after the Restoration. He died, June 3, 
1732, greatly regretted both by the dissenters and members of 
the established church, with many of whom he lived in great 
intimacy. Besides the pieces already mentioned, he published 
many sermons. He was twice married, and had thirteen children. 


ROBERT BARCLAY. 


489 


ROBERT BARCLAY, 



NE of the most eminent among the Quakers, 
the son of Colonel David Barclay, descended 
of an ancient family, was born at Edinburgh 
in 1648. He was educated under an uncle, 
who was principal of the Scots college at Pa¬ 
ris, where the papists used all their efforts to 
draw him over to their religion. He joined 
the Quakers in 1669, and distinguished himself 
by his zeal and abilities in defence of their doc¬ 
trines. His first treatise in their defence was 
published at Aberdeen in 1670. His father, the 
colonel, had joined them in 1666. In 1676 he pub¬ 
lished in Latin, at Amsterdam, his 44 Apology for the 
Quakers;” which is the most celebrated of his works, 
and esteemed the standard of the doctrine of the Quak¬ 
ers. His 44 Theses Theologicae,” which were the founda¬ 
tion of this work, and addressed to the clergy of what sort so¬ 
ever, were published before the writing of the Apology, and 
printed in Latin, French, High Dutch, Low Dutch, and English. 
He translated his Apology into English, and published it in 
1678, with a dedication to King Charles II. which is remark¬ 
able for the uncommon frankness and simplicity with which it is 
written. Among many other extraordinary passages, we meet 
with the following ; 44 There is no king in the world, who can 
so experimentally testify of God’s providence and goodness; 
neither is there any one who rules so many free people, so many 
true Christians; which thing renders thy government more hon¬ 
ourable, thyself more considerable, than the accession of many 
nations filled with slavish and superstitious souls. Thou hast 
tasted of prosperity and adversity; thou knowest what it is to 
be banished thy native country, to be over-ruled as well as to 
rule and sit upon the throne; and being oppressed, thou hast 
62 


490 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


reason to know how hateful the oppressor is both to God and 
man ; if, after all those warnings and advertisements, thou dost 
not turn unto the Lord with all thy heart, but forget him who 
remembered thee in thy distress, and give up thyself to follow 
lust and vanity, surely great will be thy condemnation.” He 
travelled with the famous William Penn through the greatest 
part of England, Holland, and Germany, and was everywhere 
received with the highest respect; for though both his conver¬ 
sation and behaviour were suitable to his principles, yet there 
was such liveliness and spirit in his discourse, and such serenity 
and cheerfulness in his deportment, as rendered him extremely 
agreeable to all sorts of people. He returned to his native 
country, spent the remainder of his life in a quiet and retired 
manner: and died at his house at Ury, on the 3d of Oct. 1690, 
aged 42. He wrote various other works ; particularly, 1. “ A 
Treatise on Universal Love2. “ The Anarchy of the Ranters:” 
(a turbulent sect with whom the enemies of the Quakers endea¬ 
voured to confound them:) 3. “ A Letter to the Ministers of 
Nimeguen:” 4. “ The Possibility and Necessity of the Inward 
Revelation of the Spirit of God,” &c. &c. 


SAMUEL CLARKE. 


491 


SAMUEL CLARKE. 



HIS very celebrated English divine was the 
son of Edward Clarke, Esq.; alderman of 
Norwich, and M. P. for several years. He 
was born at Norwich, October 11, 1675, and 
instructed in classical learning at the free 
school of that town. In 1691, he removed to 
Caius College, Cambridge, where his uncommon 
abilities soon began to display themselves. 
Though the Cartesian system was at that time 
the established philosophy of the university, yet 
Clarke made himself master of the new system of 
Newton; and in order to his first degree of arts, 
performed a public exercise in the schools upon a 
question taken from it. He contributed much to the 
establishment of the Newtonian philosophy by an ex¬ 
cellent translation of Rohault's Physics , which he 
finished, with notes, before he was twenty-two years of age. 

Rohault’s system of natural philosophy was then generally 
taught in the university. It was founded altogether upon Car¬ 
tesian principles, and very ill translated into Latin. Clarke 
gave a new translation, and added such notes as might lead 
students insensibly and by degrees to truer notions than could 
be found there. “And this certainly (says Bishop Hoadly) was 
a more prudent method of introducing truth unknown before, 
than to attempt to throw aside this treatise entirely, and write 
a new one instead of it.” The success answered to his hopes; 
and he was doubtless a great benefactor to the university in this 
attempt. For the true philosophy has thus, without any noise, 
prevailed. Whiston relates, that, in 1697, while he was chap¬ 
lain to Moore, Bishop of Norwich, he met young Clarke, then 
wholly unknown to him, at a coffee-house in that city; where 



LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


492 

they entered into a conversation about the Cartesian philosophy; 
particularly Rohault’s Physics, which Clarke’s tutor, as he tells 
us, had put him upon translating. 44 The result of this conver¬ 
sation was, (says Whiston,) that I was greatly surprised that so 
young a man as Clarke then was, should know so much of those 
sublime discoveries, which were then alpaost a secret to all, but 
to a few particular mathematicians.” This translation of Ro- 
hault was first printed in 1697, octavo. There were four edi¬ 
tions of it, in every one of which improvements were made; 
especially in the last, in 1718, which was translated by Dr. John 
Clarke, Dean of Sarum, the author’s brother, and published in 
2 vols. octavo. 

Afterwards he turned his thoughts to divinity; and studied 
the Old Testament in Hebrew, the New in Greek, and the pri¬ 
mitive Christian writers. Having taken orders, he became 
chaplain to Bishop Moore, who was ever afterwards his friend 
and patron. In 1699, he published 44 Three practical Essays 
on Baptism, Confirmation, and Repentanceand 44 Some Re¬ 
flections on that part of a book called Amyntor, or a Defence 
of Milton’s Life, which relates to the Writings of the Primitive 
Fathers, and the Canon of the New Testament.” In 1701, he 
published 44 A Paraphrase upon the Gospel of St. Matthew;” 
which was followed, in 1702, by the 44 Paraphrases upon the 
Gospels of St. Mark, and St. Luke,” and soon after by a third 
volume upon St. John. They were afterwards printed toge¬ 
ther in 2 vols. octavo; and have since undergone several edi¬ 
tions. Meantime, Bishop Moore gave him the rectory of Dray¬ 
ton, near Norwich, and procured for him a parish in that city; 
and these he served himself in that season when the bishop re¬ 
sided at Norwich. In 1704, he was appointed to preach Boyle’s 
lecture; and the subject he chose was, 44 The being and attri¬ 
butes of God.” In this, he gave such high satisfaction, that he 
was appointed to preach the same lecture the next year; when 
he chose for his subject, 44 The evidences of natural and revealed 
religion.” These sermons were first printed in two distinct 
volumes; the former in 1705, the latter in 1706. They have 
since been printed in one volume, under the general title of 
44 A Discourse concerning the Being and Attributes of God, the 
Obligations of Natural Religion, and the Truth and Certainty 
of the Christian Revelation, in answer to Hobbes, Spinoza, the 


SAMUEL CLARKE. 


493 


Author of the Oracles of Reason, and other deniers of Natural 
and Revealed Religion.” Clarke having endeavoured in the 
first part of this work to show, that the being of a God may he 
demonstrated by arguments dpriori, incurred the censure which 
Pope passed upon this method of reasoning in the following lines, 
put into the mouth of one of his dunces; 

“ Let others creep by timid steps and slow, 

On plain experience lay foundations low, 

We nobly take the high priori road, 

And reason downward, till we doubt of God.” 

Dunciad, b. 4, 1. 455. 

Upon which we have the following note : “ Those who, from the 
effects in this visible world, deduce the eternal power and God¬ 
head of the first cause, though they cannot attain to an ade¬ 
quate idea of the Deity, yet discover so much of him as enables 
them to see the end of their creation and the means of their 
happiness: whereas they who take this high priori road, as 
Hobbes, Spinosa, Des Cartes, and some better reasoners, for 
one that goes right, ten lose themselves in mists, or ramble after 
visions, which deprive them of all sight of their end, and mis¬ 
lead them in the choice of wrong means.” Clarke, it is proba¬ 
ble, would not have denied this; and the poet perhaps would 
have spared his better reasoners, and not have joined them with 
such company, had he recollected our author’s apology for using 
the argument d priori. “ The argument d posteriori (says he) 
is indeed by far the most generally useful argument, most easy 
to be understood, and in some degree suited to all capacities; 
and therefore it ought always to be insisted upon: but foras¬ 
much as atheistical writers have sometimes opposed the being 
and attributes of God by such metaphysical reasonings, as can 
no otherwise be obviated than by arguing d priori; therefore 
this manner of arguing also is useful and necessary in its proper 
place.” As to the merit, indeed, of his whole work, including 
the evidences of natural and revealed religion, it is undoubt¬ 
edly of the first order. It reflects honour on the age as well as 
the author that produced it, and will descend, with reputation, 
to a late posterity. The defence, in particular, of the sacred 
original and authority of Christianity, is admirably conducted. 
In 1706, he published “A Letter to Mr. Dodwell;” wherein all 
the arguments in his epistolary discourse against the immor- 

2 T 


494 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


tality of the soul are particularly answered. The celebrated 
Collins, coming in as a second to Dodwell, went much farther 
into the philosophy of the dispute, and indeed seemed to pro¬ 
duce all that could possibly be said against the immateriality 
of the soul, as well as the liberty of human actions. But our 
author in reply wrote with such clearness and demonstration, as 
showed him greatly superior to his adversaries in metaphysical 
and physical knowledge; and made every intelligent reader 
rejoice, that such an incident had happened to extort from him 
that strong reasoning and perspicuity of reasoning, which were 
so much wanted upon this intricate subject. Clarke’s letter to 
Dodwell was soon followed by four defences of it, in four several 
letters to him, containing, 44 Remarks on a pretended Demon¬ 
stration of the Immateriality and natural Immortality of the 
Soul,” &c. They were afterwards all printed together; and 
the 44 Answer to Toland’s Amyntor” added to them. In the 
midst of all these labours, he found time to show his regard to 
mathematical and physical studies, and exact knowledge and 
skill in them. And his capacity for these studies was not a 
little improved by the friendship of Sir Isaac Newton ; at whose 
request he translated his Optics into Latin, in 1706. With this 
version, Sir Isaac was so highly pleased, that he presented him 
with the sum of <£500, or £100 for each child, Clarke having 
then five children. This year also, Bishop Moore, who had 
long formed a design of fixing him more conspicuously, pro¬ 
cured for him the rector of St. Bennet’s, London; and soon 
after carried him to court, and recommended him to the favour 
of Queen Anne. She appointed him one of her chaplains in 
ordinary; and presented him to the rectory of St. James’s, 
Westminster, in 1709. Upon his advancement to this station, 
he took the degree of D. D., when the public exercise which he 
performed for it at Cambridge was prodigiously admired. The 
questions which he maintained were these: 1 . Nullam fidei 
Christiance dogma , in sacris scripturis traditum , est rectce ra- 
tioni dissentaneum ; that is, 44 No article of the Christian faith, 
delivered in the Holy Scriptures, is disagreeable to right rea¬ 
son.” 2. Sine actionum humanarum libertate nulla potest esse 
religio ; that is, 44 Without the liberty of human actions there 
can be no religion.” His thesis was upon the first of these 
questions; which being properly sifted by that most acute dis- 


SAMUEL CLARKE. 


495 


putant, Professor James, he made an extempore reply, in a con¬ 
tinued discourse for near half an hour, with so little hesitation 
that many of the auditors were astonished, and owned, that if 
they had not been within sight of him, they should have sup¬ 
posed him to have read every word of it. Through the course 
of the syllogistical disputation, he guarded so well against the 
arts which the professor was a complete master of; replied so 
readily to the greatest difficulties he could propose; and pressed 
him so hard with clear and intelligible answers, that perhaps 
there never was such a conflict heard in those schools. The 
professor, who was a man of humour as well as learning, said 
to him at the end of the disputation, Profecto , me probe exer- 
cuisti; that is, “ On my word, you have worked me suffi¬ 
ciently;” and the members of the university went away, admir¬ 
ing, that Clarke, after an absence of so many years, and a long 
series of business of quite another nature, should acquit him¬ 
self in such a manner, as if academical exercises had been his 
constant employment; and with such fluency and purity of ex¬ 
pression, as if he had been accustomed to converse in no other 
language but Latin. The same year, he revised and corrected 
Whiston’s translation of the Apostolical Constitutions into Eng¬ 
lish. Whiston tells us, that his own studies having been chiefly 
upon other things, and having rendered him incapable of being 
also a critic in words and languages, he desired his great friend 
and great critic, Dr. Clarke, to revise that translation; which 
he was so kind as to agree to. In 1712, he published a most beau¬ 
tiful and pompous edition of Caesar’s Commentaries, adorned 
with elegant sculptures. It was printed in folio; and after¬ 
wards, in 1720, octavo. It was dedicated to the great Duke of 
Marlborough. The doctor took particular care of the punctua¬ 
tion. In the annotations, he selected the best and most judi¬ 
cious in former editions, with some corrections of his own inter¬ 
spersed. Mr. Addison says of this work, “ The new edition, 
which is given us of Caesar’s Commentaries, has already been 
taken notice of in foreign gazettes, and is a work that does 
honour to the English press. It is no wonder that an edition 
should be very correct, which has passed through the hands of 
one of the most accurate, learned, and judicious writers this age 
has produced. The beauty of the paper, of the character, and 
of the several cuts with which this noble work is illustrated, 


496 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


makes it the finest book I have ever seen ; and is a true instance 
of the English genius, which, though it does not come the first 
into any art, generally carries it to greater heights than any 
other country in the world.” This noble work has risen in 
value. A copy of this edition, in large paper, most splendidly 
bound in morocco, was sold at the Hon. Mr. Beauclerk’s sale for 
<£44. The binding had cost Mr. Beauclerk five guineas. The 
same year, 1712, he published his celebrated book intituled, 
“ The Scripture Doctrine of the Trinity,” &c., which is divided 
into three parts. The first is, a collection and explication of all 
the texts in the “New Testament,” relating to the doctrine of 
the Trinity; in the second, the foregoing doctrine is set forth 
at large, and explained in particular and distinct propositions ; 
and, in the third, the principal passages of the liturgy of the 
Church of England, relating to the doctrine of the Trinity, are 
considered. Bishop Hoadly applauds our author’s method of 
proceeding, in forming his sentiments upon so important a 
point: he knew, (says he,) and all men agreed, that it was a 
matter of mere revelation. He had not recourse to abstract 
and metaphysical reasonings to cover or patronise any system 
he might have embraced before. But, as a Christian, he laid 
open the New Testament before him. He searched out every 
text, in which mention was made of the three persons or any 
one of them. He accurately examined the meaning of the 
words about every one of them ; and by the best rules of gram¬ 
mar and critique, and by his skill in language, he endeavoured 
to fix plainly what was declared about every person, and what 
was not. And what he thought to be the truth, he published 
under the title of “ The Scripture Doctrine of the Trinity.” 
The bishop adds, that “every Christian divine and layman 
ought to pay his thanks to Dr. Clarke for the method into which 
he brought his dispute; and for that collection of texts of the 
New Testament, by which at last it must be decided, on which 
side soever the truth may be supposed to lie.” This work not 
only occasioned a great number of books and pamphlets to be 
written against it, but made its author obnoxious to the power 
ecclesiastical, and his book to be complained of by the Lower 
House of Convention. The doctor drew up a preface, and 
afterwards gave in several explanations, which seemed to satisfy 
the Upper House; at least the affair was not brought to any 


SAMUEL CLARKE. 


497 


issue, the members appearing desirous to prevent dissensions. 
In 1715 and 1716, he had a dispute with the celebrated Leib¬ 
nitz, relating to the principles of natural philosophy and reli¬ 
gion ; and a collection of the papers which passed between them 
was published in 1717. This performance is inscribed to Queen 
Caroline, then Princess of Wales. It related chiefly to the dif¬ 
ficult subjects of liberty and necessity. In 1718, Dr. Clarke 
made an alteration in the forms of doxology in the singing 
psalms, which produced no small noise, and occasioned some 
pamphlets to be written. The alteration was this: 

“ To God, through Christ, his only Son, 

Immortal glory be,” &c.—and 

“ To God, through Christ, his Son, our Lord, 

All glory be therefore,” &c. 

A considerable number of these select psalms and hymns hav¬ 
ing been dispersed by the Society for Promoting Christian 
Knowledge, before the alteration of the doxologies was taken 
notice of, he was charged with a design of imposing upon the 
society; whereas, in truth, the edition of them had been pre¬ 
pared by him for the use of his own parish only, before the 
society had thoughts of purchasing any of the copies; and as 
the usual forms of doxology are not established by any legal 
authority, ecclesiastical or civil, in this he had not offended. 
About this time, he was presented by Lord Lechmere, the chan¬ 
cellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, to the mastership of Wig- 
ston’s Hospital in Leicester. In 1724, he published seventeen 
sermons, eleven of which were never before printed; and in 
1725, another upon the erecting of a charity school for the 
education of women servants. In 1727, upon the death of Sir 
Isaac Newton, he was offered by the court, the place of master 
of the Mint, worth from <£1200 to £1500 a year. But this, 
being a secular preferment, he absolutely refused. Whiston 
takes this to be one of the most glorious actions of his life, and 
to afford undeniable conviction, that he was in earnest in his 
religion. In 1728, was published, “ A Letter from Dr. Clarke 
to Mr. Benjamin Hoadly, F. R. S., occasioned by the contro¬ 
versy relating to the Proportion of Velocity and Force in 
Bodies in motionand printed in the Philosophical Transac¬ 
tions, No. 401. In 1729, he published the first twelve books 
of “ Homer’s Iliadin quarto. The Latin version is almost 
63 2 t 2 


498 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


entirely new ; and annotations are added to it. Homer, Bishop 
Hoadly tells us, was Clarke’s admired author, even to a degree 
of enthusiasm, hardly natural to his temper. “ The transla¬ 
tion,” adds the bishop, “ with his corrections, may now be styled 
accurate; and his notes, so far as they go, are indeed a trea¬ 
sury of grammatical and critical knowledge. He was called to 
his task by royal command; and he has performed it in such a 
manner as to be worthy of the young prince for whom it was 
laboured.” The year of this publication was the last of this 
great man’s life. Though not robust, he had always enjoyed a 
firm state of health, without any indisposition that confined him, 
except the small-pox in his youth; till, on Sunday, May 11, 
1729, going out in the morning to preach before the judges at 
Serjeant’s Inn, he was seized with a pain in his side, which 
quickly became so violent, that he was obliged to be carried 
home. He went to bed, and thought himself so much better in 
the afternoon, that he would not suffer himself to be bled. 
But the pain returning violently about two the next morning, 
made bleeding absolutely necessary; he appeared to be out of 
danger, and continued to think himself so, till the Saturday 
morning following; when the pain removed from his side to his 
head; and deprived him of his senses. He continued breath¬ 
ing till between seven or eight that evening, May 17,1729 ; and 
then died, in his fifty-fourth year. Soon after his death were 
published from his original MSS., by his brother, Dr. John 
Clarke, “An Exposition of the Church Catechism,” and ten 
volumes of sermons, in octavo. Few discourses are more judi¬ 
cious, and fewer still are equally instructive. The reasoning 
and the practical parts are excellent, and the explanations of 
Scripture are uncommonly valuable. Three years after the 
doctor’s death, appeared also the last twelve books of the Iliad, 
published in quarto by his son, Mr. Samuel Clarke. Dr. Clarke 
married Catharine, the daughter of the Rev. Mr. Lockwood, 
rector of Little Missingham in Norfolk, with whom he lived 
happy till his death ; and by whom he had seven children. In 
the various branches of useful knowledge and critical learning, 
he was perhaps without an equal; in all united, certainly with¬ 
out a superior: in his works, the best defender of religion; in 
his practice, the greatest ornament to it: in his conversation 
communicative and instructive: in his preaching and writings, 


SAMUEL CLARKE. 


499 


strong, clear, and calm: in his life, high in the esteem of the 
wise, the good, and the great; in his death, lamented by every 
friend to learning, truth, and virtue. Dr. Clarke was of a very 
humane and tender disposition. When his young children 
amused themselves with killing flies, he calmly reasoned with 
them, in such a familiar manner as was calculated to make a 
powerful impression upon their minds. He was very conde¬ 
scending in answering scruples; numberless instances of which 
occurred in the course of his life. He was peculiarly cautious 
not to lose the least minute of his time. He always carried 
some book with him, which he would read while riding in a 
coach, or walking in the fields, or when he had any leisure mo¬ 
ments free from company or study. Nay, he would read even 
in company, where he might take such a liberty without offence 
to good manners. His memory was remarkably strong. He 
never forgot any thing which he had once thoroughly appre¬ 
hended and understood. He was of a cheerful, and even play¬ 
ful disposition. Once, when the two Dr. Clarkes, Mr. Bott, and 
several men of ability and learning were together, and amusing 
themselves with diverting tricks, Dr. Samuel Clarke looking out 
of the window, saw a grave blockhead approaching to the house; 
upon which he cried out, “Boys, boys, be wise, here comes a 
fool.” This turn of mind has been censured, but in Dr. Clarke 
we can hardly consider it as a frailty. To be possessed of such 
a temper, must have been no small degree of happiness; as it 
probably enabled him to pursue his important and serious stu¬ 
dies with greater vigour. To be capable of deriving amusement 
from trivial circumstances, indicates a heart at ease, and may 
generally be regarded as the concomitant of virtue, especially 
in a person devoted to study. 


500 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JOHN OWEN, 



AMOUS among the Puritans of England, was 
born in 1616, and died 1683. After study¬ 
ing at Oxford for the church of England, 
he became a Presbyterian, but finally joined 
the Independents. He was highly esteemed 
by the parliament which executed the king, 
and was frequently called upon to preach 
before them. Cromwell, in particular, was so 
highly pleased with him, that, when going to 
Ireland, he insisted on Dr. Owen accompanying 
him, for the purpose of regulating and superin¬ 
tending the college of Dublin. After spending 
six months in that city, Owen returned to his clerical 
duties in England, from which, however, he was 
again speedily called away by Cromwell, who took 
him, in 1650, to Edinburgh, where he spent six months. 
Subsequently he was promoted to the deanery of Christ 
Church college in Oxford, and soon after, to the vice-chan¬ 
cellorship of the university, which offices he held till Crom¬ 
well’s death. After the Restoration, he was favoured by 
Lord Clarendon, who offered him a preferment in the church 
if he would conform; but this the principles of Dr. Owen did 
not permit him to do. The persecutions of the nonconformists 
repeatedly disposed him to emigrate to New England, but 
attachment to his native country prevailed. Notwithstanding 
his decided hostility to the church, the amiable dispositions 
and agreeable manners of Dr. Owen procured him much es¬ 
teem from many eminent churchmen, among whom was the 
king himself, who, on one occasion, sent for him, and, after a 
conversation of two hours, gave him a thousand guineas to be 
distributed among those who had suffered most from the recent 
persecution. He was a man of extensive learning, and most 




JOHN OWEN. 


501 


estimable character. As a preacher, he was eloquent and 
graceful, and displayed a degree of moderation and liberality 
not very common among the sectaries with whom he was asso¬ 
ciated. His extreme industry is evinced by the voluminousness 
of his publications, which amount to no fewer than seven 
volumes in folio, twenty in quarto, and about thirty in octavo. 
Among these are a collection of “Sermons,” “An Exposition 
on the Epistle to the Hebrews,” “A Discourse of the Holy 
Spirit,” and « The Divine Original and Authority of the Scrip¬ 
tures.” 


502 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ROBERT LOWTH, 



ON of Dr. William Lowth, the author of the 
« Commentaries on the Prophets/’ and other 
works, was born on the 29th of Nov. 1710. 
He studied at Winchester college, where his 
exercises were distinguished by uncommon 
elegance; and in 1730 he went to New College, 
Oxford, where he continued his studies, and took 
the degree of M. A., June 8, 1737. In 1741, he 
was elected by the university professor of Hebrew 
poetry, re-elected in 1743, and while he held that 
office, he read his admirable lectures “De sacra poesi 
Hebraeorum.” In 1744 Bishop Hoadly appointed 
him rector of Ovington in Hants; in 1750, arch¬ 
deacon of Winchester, and rector of East Weedhay in 
1753. In 1754, the university created him D. D. by 
diploma ; an honour never granted but to distinguished 
merit. Having, in 1749, travelled with Lord George and Lord 
Frederick Cavendish, in 1755, the late duke being lord-lieuten¬ 
ant of Ireland, Dr. Lowth went to that kingdom as his grace’s 
first chaplain. Soon after this, he was offered the bishopric of 
Limerick ; but preferring a less dignified station in his own 
country, he exchanged it with Dr. Leslie, prebendary of Durham 
and rector of Sedgefield, for these preferments. In Nov. 1765, 
he was chosen F. R. S. In June, 1766, he was, on the death 
of Dr. Squire, raised to the see of St. David’s ; which, in October 
he resigned for that of Oxford. In April, 1777, he was trans¬ 
lated to the see of London, on the death of Bishop Terrick; 
and in 1783, he declined the offer of the primacy of all England. 
Having been long afflicted with the stone, which he bore with 
the most exemplary fortitude, he died at Fulham, Nov. 3, 1787. 
He had married in 1752, Mary, daughter of Laurence Jackson, 


ROBERT LOWTH. 


508 


Esq. of Christ-church, Hants, by whom he had two sons and 
five daughters ; of whom two and his lady survived him. 

His literary character may be estimated from the value and 
the importance of his works. Besides his “Prelections on the 
Hebrew Poetry,” which have been read with applause abroad 
and at home, and the Latinity of which is equal to that of Bu¬ 
chanan in classical purity, he published, in 1758, “The Life of 
William of Wykeham, Bishop of Winchester,” with a dedication 
to Bishop Hoadly; which involved him in a 'dispute concern¬ 
ing a decision which that bishop had made respecting the war- 
denship of Winchester college. This controversy was on both 
sides carried on with such abilities, that, though relating to a 
private concern, it may still be read with pleasure and improve¬ 
ment. The life of Wykeham is drawn from the most authentic 
sources; and affords much information concerning the manners 
and transactions of the period in which Wykeham lived, as well 
as respecting the two literary societies of which he was the 
founder, and in which Dr. Lowth was educated. In 1762 was 
first published his “Short Introduction to English Grammar,” 
which has since gone through many editions. It was originally 
designed only for domestic use; but its judicious remarks being 
too valuable to be confined to a few, the book was given to the 
world; and the excellence of its method, which teaches what is 
right by showing what is wrong, has insured public approbation 
and very general use. In 1765, Dr. Lowth was engaged with 
Bishop Warburton in a controversy which made so much noi§e 
at the time that it even attracted the notice of royalty. In 
1778, he published his last great work, “A Translation of 
Isaiah,” which proved adequate to the highest expectations of 
the public. Several occasional discourses were also published, 
worthy of their author. Among these, one on the “Kingdom 
of God,” on the extension and progressive improvement of 
Christ’s religion, and on the means of promoting these by the 
advancement of religious knowledge, by freedom of inquiry, by 
toleration and mutual charity, has been much admired as exhibit¬ 
ing a most comprehensive view of the successive states of the 
Christian church. Of his poetical pieces, none display greater 
merit than “Verses on the Genealogy of Christ, and “The 
Choice of Hercules,” both written very early in his life. He 
wrote a spirited “ Imitation of an Ode of Horace, applied to 


504 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


the alarming situation of Britain in 1745, and some “Verses on 
the death of Frederick Prince of Wales/’ with a few smaller 
poems. Learning and taste, however, did not constitute Bishop 
Lowth’s highest excellence. Eulogium can scarcely ascend too 
high, in speaking of him either as a private man or a Christian 
pastor. His amiable manners rendered him an ornament to his 
station while they endeared him to all with whom he conversed; 
and his zeal for the interest of religion made him promote to 
places of trust and dignity such clergymen as he knew were best 
qualified to fill them. To the world he was a benefit by his 
splendid abilities ; and while virtue and learning are esteemed, 
the memory of Lowth will be respected. 


CLAUDIUS BUCHANAN. 


505 


CLAUDIUS BUCHANAN. 



LAUDIUS BUCHANAN was born at Cam- 
buslang, near Glasgow, and when seven years 
old entered the grammar-school of Inverary, 
of which his father was principal. He re¬ 
mained there six years. When fourteen, he 
became tutor to the two sons of Mr. Campbell, 
of Dunstafnage. During this period, he ap¬ 
pears to have thought seriously on the subject 
of religion, and was assisted in devotional duties 
by his grandfather; but, as he advanced toward 
manhood, these serious thoughts were, through the 
influence of company, almost entirely obliterated. 
In 1782, he entered Glasgow College; left it two 
years after, and returned in 1786, in which year he 
received a creditable certificate from the professor of 
logic. At the age of twenty-one, he became attached to 
a young lady, much superior to him in fortune; and the desire 
of obtaining her led him to adopt the rather singular resolution 
of visiting the Continent, travelling through it on foot, and by 
some means raise himself to a rank which might make good his 
claim to her hand. By deceiving his parents with a specious 
tale, he obtained their consent to depart; and in 1787 left 
Edinburgh on foot, trusting to his imperfect knowledge of the 
violin to obtain subsistence by the way. In about a month, he 
arrived at London, so exhausted by hunger and distress that 
he determined on abandoning his journey to the Continent. 
Having neither money nor employment, and resolved not to go 
back to his parents, he was obliged to sell his books and cloth¬ 
ing in order to obtain a meagre subsistence. He lay on the 
bare ground, and sometimes had not bread to eat. From this 
condition he was relieved by becoming clerk to an attorney; 

64 2 U 


506 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


and afterwards he engaged with a solicitor, with whom he re¬ 
mained three years. During this time, he corresponded with 
his friends at home, writing fictitious places and dates, and 
giving his mother pleasing accounts of his health and situation. 
He appears to have lived improvidently, being often obliged to 
pawn his clothes and other necessary articles, in order to raise 
money to visit theatres, attend debating societies, or even to 
obtain a meal. 

Meanwhile his father had died. Buchanan was little affected 
hy intelligence of the event; and indeed at this period and two 
years after, he may be described as a careless and dissolute 
young man. But in 1790, his early religious impressions were 
revived by an apparent accident. A gentleman of sincere piety 
called upon him one Sabbath evening, and out of courtesy Bu¬ 
chanan gave the conversation a religious turn. “ I asked him 
whether he believed there was such a thing as divine grace; whe¬ 
ther or not it was a fiction imposed by grave and austere persons 
from their own fancies.” The reply was earnest and powerful. 
Buchanan passed the night in distress; and during seven months, 
as he writes in his diary, he prayed continually for a new heart 
and a more thorough discovery of sin. In this condition he 
wrote to his mother for advice, and was recommended by her to 
Mr. Newton, Rector of St. Mary’s, London. Through the 
exhortations and advice of this excellent man, he was greatly 
strengthened; after a long period of doubt, fear, and self-accu¬ 
sation, he was introduced to a state of peace and joy; and his 
heart was now nerved with that energy and true ambition, which 
afterwards produced such splendid results. He now turned his 
attention to the ministry, for which his parents had designed 
him from his infancy; but, as a preparatory step, he addressed 
to his mother a full statement of his condition from the time of 
leaving Scotland, begged her forgiveness, and requested her 
advice. The letter filled her with joy, she encouraged him 
warmly to proceed, and at the expense of a friend, Mr. Henry 
Thornton, he was placed at Cambridge University. His career 
at that venerable spot was brilliant. On the 20th of Septem¬ 
ber, 1795, he was ordained by Bishop -Porteus; next year he 
received priests’ orders from the Bishop of London, and as he 
had already decided on a mission to India, he went in the month 
of May to visit his mother. Here he spent but two or three 


CLAUDIUS BUCHANAN. 


507 


weeks, and then prepared for his departure. In the following 
August he sailed for Bengal. 

During the voyage, Buchanan acted as instructor to the crew— 
a situation which afforded him opportunities to converse much 
upon the nature and obligations of true religion. On reaching 
Calcutta, he was welcomed by the Rev. Mr. Brown, with whose 
family he resided a short time. He afterwards became chaplain 
at Barrackpore, where, as there was no church, he held divine 
service in his house, as often as his engagement as army chap¬ 
lain permitted. During this period, he prosecuted his studies 
with ardour, and seems to have devoted special attention to elo¬ 
cution as applied to the Hindoo languages. In April, 1799, he 
married Miss Mary Whish, an amiable young lady about nine¬ 
teen. This change in his domestic condition was a happy one, 
and he complained no more of his lonely life at Barrackpore. 
In the following year, he was appointed vice-prevost of the new 
college, founded by Lord Wellesley, for instructing the young 
civil students in Eastern literature and general learning. He 
was also appointed professor of Greek, Latin, and English 
classics, with two hundred students under his care. Courses in 
the Arabic, Hindostanee, and Persian languages were also esta¬ 
blished. In a little time, nearly the w T hole labour of the college, 
as well as of all the neighbouring churches, devolved upon Bu¬ 
chanan ; besides which, he generally preached once or twice on 
Sunday at the churches in Calcutta. In the year 1802, his 
income became greatly increased, and he nobly requested his 
mother to draw' annually upon him for the sum of three hundred 
pounds. Previous to this, the approach of consumption had 
obliged his wife to return to England with her youngest child, 
so that the missionary could devote more time to his numerous 
duties. 

Amid this tide of labour and prosperity, orders were received 
from England for the immediate abolition of the college. The 
despatch was communicated by Lord Wellesley to Buchanan, 
with a request that he would consider upon a reply to the rea¬ 
sons upon which the order was founded. An able defence was 
drawn up; it was found impossible to demolish the college at 
once; the studies went on as usual; and in 1803 Wellesley pre¬ 
sided at the second annual disputation. For the first time, 
declamations were pronounced in the Arabic language; prizes 


508 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


and rewards for oriental and classical learning were distributed; 
and the president delivered an able speech, in which he declared 
that the institution had answered his most sanguine hopes, and 
that its administration had been conducted with honour and 
credit, as well as with great advantage to the public service. 
During the same year, Buchanan despatched letters to the vice- 
chancellors and principals of the universities in the United 
Kingdom, offering prizes to the amount of fifteen hundred 
pounds for essays and poems, connected with the civilization 
and moral improvement of India. In November, he first com¬ 
municated his thoughts concerning the establishment of an 
ecclesiastical system in India to the Archbishop of Canterbury. 
Soon after, permission was received from England for the col¬ 
lege to continue on its original footing. About the same time, 
Buchanan ably refuted the arguments of those who opposed the 
translation of the Bible into the oriental languages; and his 
first versions of the gospels in Persian and Hindostanee were 
issued from the press of the College of Fort William. Flatter¬ 
ing results of his unwearied labours began to appear in England, 
Prize compositions of great merit appeared in various quarters. 
Learned men in Europe, hitherto secluded and almost unknown, 
turned their attention to oriental literature and improvement; 
and his memoir on the expediency of an ecclesiastical establish¬ 
ment for British India was extensively circulated, and produced 
considerable impression upon the public mind. 

Yet this prosperity was not unalloyed with sorrow. Mary, 
his young wife, had returned from England, greatly benefited 
in health; but soon after, consumptive symptoms of an alarming 
nature again appeared. At the close of autumn, her return to 
England was considered indispensable. Their parting was a 
mournful one, and they never met again. Buchanan received 
intelligence of her death while engaged in Hebrew, Syriac, and 
Chaldaic studies at Sooksagur. The calmness with which he 
relates that event may strike us as rather singular. “ While I 
was thus engaged, the news of Mary’s death arrived. I found 
some consolation in writing a few lines to her memory, which I 
inscribed on a leaf of her own Bible; the best monument I 
could erect; for her body is buried in the deep. I sometimes 
think that had I my two little girls to play with, I should be 
happy even in this dreary land. My chief solace is in a mind 


CLAUDIUS BUCHANAN. 


509 


constantly employed; and this is the greatest temporal blessing 
I can expect, even unto the end. I could relate to you scenes 
of tribulation and keen persecution in regard to myself and 
others; but these could give you no pleasure, and I wish not to 
think of them.” 

Buchanan’s “ Christian Researches” are the imbodiment of 
his adventures and labours, during a journey to the South of 
India in the period succeeding that of his wife’s death. His 
life during this journey was a most singular on^—uniting the 
self-denying perseverance of a Christian missionary with the 
wild adventures of a Bengal hunter. Sometimes mounted on 
an elephant, at others borne in a palanquin, he visited the vari¬ 
ous churches in his route, preached to the natives, and corrected 
such errors or difficulties as were submitted to his decision. His 
principal opposition arose from the efforts of the Roman Catho¬ 
lics. At Mavelycar he proposed to send a standard translation 
of the Scriptures in Malayalim to each of their fifty-five churches, 
provided the copies would be multiplied for circulation among 
the people. “ How (replied the aged priest) shall we know that 
your western Bible is the same as ours ?” Buchanan replied 
that he had a copy which they might examine, and after some 
consultation it was proposed that the third chapter of St. Mat¬ 
thew’s gospel should be critically compared, word for word, in 
the Eastern Syrian, Western Syrian, and English. “It was an 
interesting scene to me (says Buchanan) to behold the ancient 
English Bible thus brought before the tribunal of these simple 
Christians in the hills of Malabar. At last, they were satisfied 
that it was a true and faithful translation. As for the Western 
Syrian, it agreed with the Eastern nearly word for word. They 
now determined that one of the priests and one of the elders 
should accompany me to the other churches.” Buchanan also 
visited the Romish churches, and appears to have been on 
friendly terms with the Jesuits. 

Meanwhile, the college at Calcutta had been suffered to de¬ 
cline, so that on his return to it, Buchanan found his income 
and influence greatly diminished. But his journey to India, and 
especially his discovery of the Syrian church, spread his repu¬ 
tation throughout Christendom. In 1808, he visited the Papal 
Inquisition at Goa, but failed in his demand to see the dungeons 
and places of torture. Soon after, he set sail for England, and 

2 u 2 


510 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


in the same year (1808) arrived at London. “ I have no thought 
(he writes) of ever returning to India again. My wish is to 
take a cure of souls, and to grow old preaching the gospel. I 
have not lived with my mother these twenty years, a fortnight 
excepted. I have a long arrear of filial affection and personal 
attention to bring up, and must first fulfil this duty.” In Feb¬ 
ruary, he preached at St. James’ Church, Bristol, his celebrated 
sermon, entitled the “Star in the East.” To the University of 
Cambridge he presented his valuable collection of oriental manu¬ 
scripts, twenty-five in number, written in the Hebrew, Syriac, 
and Ethiopic languages. 

Early in 1810, Buchanan married a daughter of Henry 
Thompson, Esq., of Yorkshire. Here he afterwards fixed his 
residence, and took upon himself the whole charge of the parish 
of Ouseburn. In the same year he published his “Jubilee Ser¬ 
mons.” But a sad and painful trial was approaching. Early 
in 1811, he was suddenly struck by paralysis, which affected 
his voice and right hand. Thus partially cut off from the sources 
of his highest pleasure, he resolved on a course which evinces in 
a remarkable degree his inclination for bold and active labour. 
This was a visit to Palestine, for the purpose of examining its 
language and the condition of the churches. His friends endea¬ 
voured to dissuade him; but their efforts were vain, and he fixed 
the following February for the commencement of his journey. 
A second stroke of paralysis frustrated his plans. Still his 
ardour in the cause of oriental improvement did not abate, and 
he employed his remaining strength in superintending the edi¬ 
tion of the Syriac New Testament, printed by the British and 
Foreign Bible Society. While thus engaged, his second wife died, 
and he took a temporary residence in Hertfordshire, near the 
printer of the Syriac Testament. But gradually his strength 
declined; the time of his departure was approaching. On the 
night of February, 1815, he retired to rest as usual, having none 
but a servant in the chamber. At midnight, a third stroke of 
paralysis terminated his existence, without a struggle or a groan. 
He was but forty-nine years old. Few men in the field of mis¬ 
sionary labour have met with more splendid success than Bu¬ 
chanan. Friends surrounded him in every station of life; wealth 
and reputation seemed to flow at his touch; and the career of 
his success and prosperity flowed brighter and broader, from 


CLAUDIUS BUCHANAN. 


511 


his entrance into Cambridge, until near the close of his life. 
Perhaps this is the cause why we admire his exertions rather 
than sympathize with them. They possess no vein of intrinsic 
feeling—of deep melancholy—coming from the heart and reach¬ 
ing to it, as doth the labours of Ziesberger and Brainerd. He 
enlisted comrades in his cause, by exciting ambition rather than 
devotion. 

Mr. Carne thus sums up the character of Buchanan:—‘‘In 
the two and paramount pursuits of his life, oriental learning, 
and the better religious instruction of India, he was singularly 
successful; it cannot be said that disappointment, self-denial, 
or the anguish of hope deferred, were his lot; of the stern dif¬ 
ficulties and dangers of the earlier missionaries he knew but 
little. The sorrows that were given him, were not of the world: 
friends, patrons, wealth, and distinction, early raised Buchanan 
from his lowly estate. He justified the most sanguine expecta¬ 
tions, either as vice-provost of the College of Fort William, as 
minister of the church of the Presidency, or when employing 
his pen in his various literary and religious compositions; for 
his mind was acute, comprehensive, and persevering, his appli¬ 
cation unwearied, and the stores of his learning rich and various. 
His style is vigorous and clear, but often sententious. ‘The 
colouring of the picturesque, with which he contributes to invest 
his subject,’ as an admirer says, is not a prominent feature; for 
imagination was sparingly given to Buchanan. His epistolary 
style is unhappy; it does not flow naturally, or with any grace 
or beauty. Even when religion is the theme, as it is often and 
anxiously, there is a mannerism and formality of expression 
which much diminish its power. Why is it, that, while perus¬ 
ing his life, we feel that we cannot love the man ? Simply, 
from the absence of warmth in his affections, and of unction , 
if the expression may be allowed, in his piety. 

“The author of the ‘Christian Researches,’ has left an im¬ 
perishable monument, whose brightness time will only augment; 
the Episcopal Establishment in India owes it foundation chiefly 
to his masterly pen, and his able personal exertions, which did 
not cease, even when the dark waters of death were closing 
around him.” 


512 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ANNE HASSELTINE JUDSON. 



RADFORD, in Massachusetts, was the birth- 
- place of this remarkable and interesting wo¬ 
man. Mrs. Judson’s early life gave promise 
of future distinction and usefulness. She 
possessed a persevering mind, ardent feelings, 
and a love for travel and adventure. Her 
love of reading was immoderate. At an early 
age she entered the academy at Bradford, where 
her rapid progress elicited the admiration and 
astonishment of her acquaintances. When fifteen, 
her attention was turned to the subject of religion; 
its inestimable value seems to have been at once un¬ 
folded to her. “Redeeming love,” says an intimate 
friend, “ was now her favourite theme. One might 
spend days with her, without hearing any other subject 
adverted to. The throne of grace was her early and late 
I have known her often to spend cold winter evenings in 
her chamber without fire; yet her love of social pleasures was 
not diminished. Even now I fancy I see her, with strong feel¬ 
ing depicted on her countenance, on which a heart-felt smile so 
often beamed.” 

At the age of twenty, Miss Hasseltine became acquainted 
with Mr. Judson, a graduate of Brown University, who, during 
the period of their acquaintance, was appointed by the American 
Board of Foreign Missions, as missionary to India. In Feb¬ 
ruary, 1812, they were married, and immediately sailed for 
Calcutta. Mrs. Judson’s journal expresses, in affecting terms, 
the feelings which rose in her bosom at this momentous period, 
when in the bloom of health and love, she bade farewell to her 
native land. In June, the missionaries reached Calcutta, and 
were immediately invited by Dr. Carey, to Serampore. Ten 
days after, they were summoned to Calcutta, where an order 


resort. 


ANNE HASSELTINE JUDSON. 


513 

of government was read to them, to quit the country imme¬ 
diately. This they eluded; but in a few months the Bengal 
authorities commanded them to sail immediately for England. 
They now resolved to escape from the city, and proceeded down 
the river separately in boats, exposed during the whole time, 
without any shelter, to a burning sun. They met at a tavern, 
where, after remaining a few days, they obtained permission to 
embark in a vessel bound for Madras. 

Her journal at this time exhibits the state of her feelings. 
“ Can I forget thee, 0 my country ? Can I forget the parental 
roof, and the loved associates of my life. Never, never till the 
pulse ceases to beat, and the heart to feel. 0 my heavenly 
Father! my early, my present, my everlasting friend! When 
prospects are dark and gloomy, and distressing apprehensions 
weigh heavy on the soul, he leads me to feel my dependence on 
him, and to lean on the bosom of infinite love.” On arriving 
at the Isle of France, Mrs. Judson learned the death of her 
friend and former schoolmate, Harriet Newell. Soon after, in¬ 
formation was received that the Baptist General Convention at 
Philadelphia had appointed her husband and herself as their 
missionaries, with permission to use their discretion in selecting 
a field of labour. This was joyful tidings. They immediately 
sailed, (May, 1813,) for Rangoon, the principal port of the Bur- 
man empire, where they arrived in July. In the quiet mission- 
house, which had been built by former Christian labourers, the 
young missionaries found a home, and commenced the study of 
the native language. She thus describes this rather discourag¬ 
ing labour. “Could you look into a large open room, you 
would see Mr. Judson bent over a table covered with Burman 
books, with his teacher at his side, a venerable looking man, in: 
his sixtieth year, with a cloth wrapped round his middle, and a 
handkerchief round his head. They talk and chatter all day 
long, with hardly any cessation. My mornings are busily em¬ 
ployed in giving orders to the servants, providing food for the 
family, &c. At ten, my teacher comes, when you might see me 
in an upper room, at one side of my study-table, and my teacher 
at the other, reading Burman, writing, talking, &c. I am fre¬ 
quently obliged to speak Burman all day.” 

The birth of a son interrupted these exercises. All the long¬ 
ing affection for those whom the parents had left in their own/ 
65 


514 


LIVES OP EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


land was transferred to this infant. It died; and after the 
first shock had passed away, the desolate parents resumed their 
cheerless study. It was again interrupted. Through excessive 
study, perhaps also through grief, Mr. Judson’s eyes had be¬ 
come so weak, and his head so much affected, that he could not 
look into a book. His companion w T as obliged to nurse him day 
and night: and in that duty her own health began to fail. But 
in October they were cheered by the arrival of two auxiliary 
missionaries, Mr. and Mrs. Hough; and Mr. Judson, who had 
prepared several tracts in the Burman language, was presented 
by Dr. Carey, of Serampore, with a printing press, types, and 
apparatus. Soon after, he prepared a grammar, and an edition 
of three hundred copies of St. Matthew’s gospel. About the 
same time the natives manifested much kindness; and the 
viceroy’s wife indulged Mrs. Judson with a long ride through 
the forest, on an elephant. 

Meanwhile, the tracts were read by numbers, some of whom 
visited the mission-house to inquire more particularly about the 
new religion. On Sabbath, a company of fifteen or twenty 
females collected to hear Mrs. Judson read and explain the 
Scriptures. In December, 1817, Mr. Judson left Rangoon for 
Arracan, in order to recruit his health, and procure one of the 
native Christians residing there, and who spoke the Burman 
language, to assist him in his first attempts to preach. The 
voyage was one of hardship and difficulty, and for some months 
it was believed that he had perished. At the same time Mr. 
Hough and his family embarked for Bengal. The feelings of 
the young wife, thus left alone, in a land of barbarians, may be 
imagined. Unexpectedly, after an absence of six months, her 
husband returned. He was now sufficiently master of the lan¬ 
guage to preach publicly. A small chapel was erected on the 
road leading to one of the principal pagodas; a congregation 
of about fifteen persons assembled ; and in April, 1819, the first 
effort at public preaching opened a new era in the history of the 
mission. The harvest which years of toil, and sickness, and 
sorrow, had sowed and watered, was about to be gathered. The 
hour of baptizing the first convert was an hour of unutterable 
joy to the missionaries. Several others were baptized in the 
river at sunset. Five thousand additional copies of the tract 
on the Christian religion was published and circulated. 


ANNE HASSELTINE JUDSON. 


515 

But this bright prospect was soon clouded. The heathen 
authorities denounced death as the penalty of conversion, and 
the natives abandoned their visits to the chapel. The mission¬ 
aries now resolved on a visit to the emperor, by whose permis¬ 
sion alone, was there any chance of further success. They 
embarked for Ava in a boat six feet wide, and forty feet long, 
and, on the 25th of January, arrived safely at the Burman 
capital. As a present, they carried with them the Bible, in six 
volumes, each covered with gold-leaf in the Burman style, and 
enclosed in a rich wrapper. After a short interview with the 
emperor, they received his answer, that “in regard to the ob¬ 
jects of your petition, his majesty gives no order; in regard 

to your sacred books, his majesty has no use for them; take 
them away.” Still they were not discouraged. A learned 
native, named Mong-sha-gong, was converted, and devoted his 
time and talents to the mission. When Mr. and Mrs. Judson 
sailed, in the beginning of August, for Calcutta, this man la¬ 
boured so industriously at the chapel, that, on their return, 

after an absence of five months, they were delighted to find that 
not one convert had dishonoured his new profession, by relapsing 
into idolatry. Other portions of the Scripture were now trans¬ 
lated and published; and again the prospects of the mission 
revived. Yet difficulties of another kind arose. Mrs. Judson’s 
health was failing fast, and at length it became necessary for 
her to leave Burmah. She sailed to Calcutta, and thence to 
England. The arrival of a young and learned woman, from 
Burmah, w r as a novelty even in the circles of London. She was 
invested with that strange halo of romantic interest, which a 
lofty purpose, displayed in a daring courage, and a calm endur¬ 
ance, sheds around the character. Mankind delight to behold 
a wife and mother acting the part of a heroine, in the holiest 
of causes—wiping the tears from the eyes of others, and cheer¬ 
ing their hearts, while, for the gushings of her own sad heart, 
there is found no comforter, no witness but God. 

Mrs. Judson succeeded in imparting to the religious com¬ 
munity of London, considerable zeal for the Burman mission. 
She next visited Scotland, and afterwards embarked at Liver¬ 
pool for her native land. We cannot better describe the effect 
of that visit upon her than in her own words. “ From the day 
of my arrival, all peace and quiet were banished from my mind ; 


516 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


and, for the first four days and nights, I never closed my eyes 
to sleep. The scene which ensued at my father’s, brought my 
feelings to a crisis. Nature was quite exhausted, and I began 
to fear, would sink. The house was thronged with visiters 
from day to day; and I was kept in a state of constant ex¬ 
citement, by daily meeting with my old friends and acquaint¬ 
ances.” She afterwards retired to Baltimore, and was placed 
under the best medical care. Here she prepared her journal 
for the press. In the spring of 1823 she returned to Massa¬ 
chusetts, greatly improved in health. Her friends endeavoured 
to postpone the hour of her departure, but so great was her 
desire of returning to Burmah, that she prepared for the sepa¬ 
ration, which she felt was to be final. The scene was deeply 
affecting. The sorrowing group of friends and relatives stood 
upon the shore. Sobs and cries were mingled with the deep 
tones of agonizing prayer. When the boat moved off, a hymn 
was sung, descriptive of the missionary’s lot—and that sound, 
as it followed her over the waters, was the last she ever heard 
in her native land. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Judson and his associates remained at Ran¬ 
goon. In 1822, they had been strengthened by the arrival of 
Dr. Price, who, with his friend, visited the emperor. At length 
a piece of ground was procured, pleasantly situated on the river 
bank, without the city walls, and about a mile from the palace. 
Here Mr. Judson erected a small house, and in a few months 
his New Testament, in Burmah, was completed. 

In December, 1823, the long-absent wife arrived in safety, 
and soon after they set out together to visit the queen, who had 
expressed a desire to see them. After a fine voyage up the 
Irrawady, they reached the capital and were kindly received by 
Dr. Price, at whose house they awaited the queen’s summons. 
But a period of trial and suffering greater than they had 
yet experienced was at hand. Burmah was on the eve of 
war with Bengal. The emperor placed thirty thousand men 
under the command of his great general, Bandoola, for the 
purpose of invading Bengal. In May, 1824, six thousand 
English troops sat down before Rangoon, which was speedily 
captured. The rage of the Burmese at this loss was unbounded. 
They threatened to murder the missionaries, and to drive all 
foreigners from the capital. Mr. Judson was seized, and, with 


ANNE HASSELTINE JUDSON. 


517 

other white persons, thrown into the death prison, and con¬ 
fined with three pair of iron fetters to a long pole. His wife 
was not allowed to enter this gloomy dungeon. At the end of 
two months, the prison was torn down, Mr. Judson and his com¬ 
panions were placed in an inner cell, and all intercourse with 
them denied. Soon after, Bandoola was killed in battle. The 
prisoners were removed into the interior, chained in pairs, and 
driven by slaves. On receiving intelligence of this, Mrs. Jud¬ 
son, though suffering from recent sickness, set out to follow her 
husband, carrying with her their second child, but lately born. 
The heat and the other dangers of the journey almost deprived 
her of reason; and on reaching the village where her husband 
was confined, she was forced to seek a shelter at the house of 
the jailer. During the six months that she remained here, her 
sufferings were dreadful. “I was all day long going backwards 
and forwards to the prison, with Maria in my arms. My mise¬ 
rable food and more miserable lodgings brought on one of the 
diseases of the country. I could scarcely walk to see my hus¬ 
band. My strength seemed at last entirely exhausted. I 
crawled to the mat in the little room, to which I was confined 
for more than two months.” 

These sufferings were terminated by an order from the British 
officer, Sir Archibald Campbell, that the white prisoners should 
be surrendered. The faithful wife was once more restored to 
her husband, and both were received and entertained by the 
general and his officers in a manner which obliterated, in some 
measure, the remembrance of their sufferings. After an absence 
of two years and a half, they returned to Kangoon, where Mrs. 
Judson exerted herself to relieve the condition of those who had 
been rendered miserable through oppression or imprisonment. 
The first mission being in a deplorable condition, it was resolved 
to found a new one at Amherst, a newly built town on the Sal- 
wen river. After arriving here safely, Mr. Judson set out on 
an embassy to Ava. ‘‘We parted,” he says, “with cheerful 
hearts, confident of a speedy reunion, and indulging fond anti¬ 
cipations of future years of domestic happiness.” It was their 
last parting. Early in October, Mrs. Judson was seized with a 
dangerous illness, which increased upon her to an alarming ex¬ 
tent. In a few days her mind became unsettled, though she 
still recognised her child, gazing fixedly upon it, and charging 

2 X 


518 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


the servants to be kind to it until the father should return. 
Once or twice memory brought back the departing affections in 
all their strength. “ My husband is long in coming, (she would 
murmur,) the new missionaries are long in coming. I must die 
alone, and leave my little one; but, as it is the will of God, I 
acquiesce. I am not afraid to die. Tell him the disease was 
most violent, and I could not write. Tell him how I suffered, 
and died.” At the fatal moment she uttered one exclamation 
of distress in the Burman language, and expired. She was 
buried in a little cemetery under the hopia tree; and there, 
too, in a few months, her infant was laid by her side. Mrs. 
Judson was the first American woman who left her native land 
to carry the gospel to the heathen. In the bright day of youth 
and of love, she left home, and earthly pleasures, and the 
haunts of childhood, not because she , loved them less than 
others do, but because she loved them less than her God. 

“Christianity,” says one of Mrs. Judson’s biographers, 
“ennobles and elevates the character. In the view of the 
worldly, the man of true religion is too often regarded as inca¬ 
pable of deeds of greatness. His humility is accounted mean¬ 
ness ; his meekness, pusillanimity; his scrupulous conscientious¬ 
ness, narrowness of mind. And yet it is in the Christian man or 
woman who fears God, and therefore knows no other fear, that 
the best example of true magnanimity is to be found. What 
but the religion of the blessed Jesus could have so steeled the 
heart and nerved the arm of a timid, shrinking female, as to 
have led to the performance of such deeds, or the endurance 
of such sufferings, as marked the history of Mrs. Judson? She 
was, in every sense of the word, a Christian heroine—a woman 
of powerful mind, of large heart, of undaunted courage, and 
yet of simple, humble, unaffected piety.” 


JOHN WILLIAM FLETCHER. 


519 


JOHN WILLIAM FLETCHER, 



^ OUNGEST son of Colonel de la Flech&re, a 
^ Swiss, in the French service, was born on the 
12th of September, 1729, near Geneva, where 
he appears to have commenced and completed 
his education. Evincing a predilection for 
a military life, he proceeded, at an early age, 
contrary to the wishes of his friends, who con¬ 
sidered him to be more qualified for the church 
than the camp, to Portugal, where he obtained 
the captaincy of a company of volunteers, who 
were destined to serve in Brazil; but, on the morn¬ 
ing of his intended departure, a servant, by acci¬ 
dent, scalded him so severely that he was incapable 
of embarking. The man of war, in which he had 
been ordered to sail, consequently put to sea without 
him, and was never heard of again. He subsequently 
procured a commission in the Dutch service; but, an unexpect¬ 
ed peace putting an end to his hopes of promotion, he aban¬ 
doned the army, and, removing to England, became tutor in 
the family of Mr. Hill, of Shropshire, and at length a preacher 
among the Wesleyan Methodists. Having obtained a title for 
holy orders, he was ordained deacon by the Bishop of Bangor, 
on the 6th of March, 1767, and priest on the following Sab¬ 
bath. After having officiated at various places in the country, 
and preached to the French prisoners at Tunbridge, in their 
own language, he was appointed assistant to Charles Wesley. 
Although his pronunciation of the English language was imper¬ 
fect, the correctness of his manner in the pulpit procured him 
many admirers, one of whom presented him, in 1759, to the 
vicarage of Madeley, which he held during the remainder of 
his life. In 1770, he visited his native country, and, on hie 
return to England, in the following summer, became gratuitous 



520 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


superintendent of the Countess of Huntingdon’s* College of Di¬ 
vinity ; but, owing to a schism among the students on the sub¬ 
ject of predestination, he resigned his office in 1771, and sub¬ 
sequently produced several controversial works. In 1777, he 
proceeded to the south of France for the benefit of his health, 
and, soon after his return in 1781, married a lady named Bo- 
sanquet. Ilis death took place on the 18th of August, 1785. 
His mode of living was simple, his devotion pure, his temper 
benignant, and his conduct exemplary. For a long period, he 
regularly devoted two nights in the week to meditation and 
prayer. He also had a candle 'constantly burning at his bed¬ 
side, a custom which once nearly cost him his life, through his 
curtains catching fire, though he providentially escaped without 
the slightest personal injury. It appears that he refused to 
enforce the payment of tithes from the Quakers who resided in 
his parish, so that the income he derived from his vicarage did 
not exceed <£100 per annum. It was said by one of his friends 
that he would rather hear one of his sermons than read a vo¬ 
lume of his works. These consist of “ A Vindication of the 
Reverend Mr. Wesley’s Calm Address to our American Colo¬ 
nies, in some Letters to Mr. Caleb Evans« A Sermon on an 
Earthquake in Shropshire“American Patriotism further con¬ 
fronted with Reason, Scripture, and the Constitution;” “The 
Doctrines of Grace and Justice equally essential to the Pure 
Gospel;” and “An Essay on the Peace of 1783.” 


* Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, the second daughter of Washington, 
Earl Ferrars, was born in 1707, and married June 3d, 1728, to Theophilus, 
Earl of Huntingdon. Becoming a widow, she acquired a taste for the princi¬ 
ples of the Calvinistic Methodists, and patronized the Rev. George Whitefield, 
whom she constituted her chaplain. Her rank and fortune giving her great 
influence, she was long considered as a head of her sect; and, after the death 
of Whitefield, his followers were designated as the people of Lady Hunting¬ 
don. She founded schools and colleges for preachers, supported them with 
her purse, and expended annually large sums in private charity. She died 
June 17th, 1791. 



ANNE LETITIA BARBAULD. 


521 


ANNE LETITIA BARBAULD. 



ILWORTH HARCOURT, in Leicestershire, 
was the birth-place of this gifted authoress. 
She was the daughter of Dr. John Aiken, and 
was born on the 20th of June, 1743. Her 
education was entirely domestic; but the 
quickness of apprehension and desire for learn¬ 
ing which she manifested, induced her father 
to lend her his assistance towards enabling her 
to obtain a knowledge of Latin and Greek. On 
the removal of Dr. Aikin to superintend the dis¬ 
senting academy at Warrington, in Lancashire, 
she accompanied him thither, in her fifteenth year, 
when she is said to have possessed great beauty of 
person and vivacity of intellect. The associates she 
met with at Warrington were in every way congenial 
to her mind, and among others were Drs. Priestley and 
Enfield, with whom she formed an intimate acquaintance. In 
1773, she was induced to publish a volume of her Poems, which, 
in the course of the same year, went through four editions. 
They were followed by “Miscellaneous Pieces in Prose,” by J. 
(her brother) and A. L. Aikin, which considerably added to her 
reputation. 

In 1774, she married the Rev. Rochemont Barbauld, with 
whom she removed to Palgrave, near Dis, in Suffolk, where her 
husband had charge of a dissenting congregation, and was about 
to open a boarding-school. Mrs. Barbauld assisted him in the 
task of instruction, and some of her pupils, who have since 
risen to literary eminence, among whom were the present Mr. 
Denman and Sir William Gell, have acknowledged the value of 
her lessons in English composition and declamation. In 1775, 
appeared a small volume from her pen, entitled “Devotional 
Pieces, compiled from the Psalms of David,” &c., a collection 

66 2x2 


522 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

which' met with little success, and some animadversion. In 
1778, she published her “Lessons for Children from Two to 
Three Years’ Old, and, in 1781, “Hymns in Prose for Chil¬ 
dren,” both of which may be said to have formed an era in the 
art of instruction, and the former has been translated into 
French by M. Pasquier. 

In 1785, Mrs. Barbauld and her husband gave up their 
school and visited the Continent, whence they returned to Eng¬ 
land, in June, 1786, and in the following year took up their 
residence at Hampstead. Our authoress now began to use her 
pen on the popular side of politics, and published successively 
“ An Address to the Opposers of the Repeal of the Corporation 
and Test Acts;” “A Poetical Epistle to Mr. Wilberforce on 
the Rejection of the Bill for Abolishing the Slave Trade ;” 
“ Remarks on Gilbert Wakefield’s Inquiry into the Expediency 
and Propriety.of Public or Social Worshipand “Sins of 
Government, Sins of the Nation, or a Discourse for the Fast,” 
which last appeared in 1793. In 1802, she removed, with Mr. 
Barbauld, to Stoke Newington, and in 1804 published “ Selections 
from the Spectator, Tatler, Guardian, and Freeholder,” with 
a preliminary essay, which is regarded as her most successful 
effort in literary criticism. In the same year, appeared her 
edition of « The Correspondence of Richardson,” in six volumes, 
duodecimo; but the most valuable part of this work is the very 
elegant and interesting life of that novelist, and the able re¬ 
view of his works, from the pen of our authoress. In 1808, she 
became a widow, and in 1810 appeared her edition of “ The 
British Novelists,” with an introductory essay, and biographi¬ 
cal and critical notices prefixed to the works of each author. 
In the following year, she published a collection of prose and 
verse, under the title of “ The Female Spectator,” and in the 
same year appeared that original offspring of her genius, 
“ Eighteen Hundred and Eleven, a poem.” This was the last 
separate publication of Mrs. Barbauld, who died on the 9th 
of March, 1825, in the 82d year of her age. An edition of 
her works appeared in the same year, in two octavo volumes, 
with a memoir, by Lucy Aikin. 

Mrs. Barbauld is one of the most eminent female writers 
which England has produced, and, both in prose and poetry, 
she is unequalled by any of her sex, in the present age. With 


ANNE LETITIA BARBAULD. 


523 


respect to the style, we shall, perhaps, best describe it by call¬ 
ing it that of a female Johnson, and her « Essay on Romances” 
is a professed imitation of the manner of that great critic. He 
is himself said to have allowed it to be the best that was ever 
attempted, “ because it reflected the colour of his thoughts, no 
less than the turn of his expressions.” She is, however, not 
without a style of her own, which is graceful, easy, and natu¬ 
ral—alike calculated to engage the most common and the most 
elevated understanding. Her poems are addressed more to the 
feelings than to the imagination—more to the reason than the 
senses; but the language never becomes prosaic, and has sub¬ 
limity and pathos, totally free from bombast and affectation. 
The spirit of piety and benevolence that breathes through her 
works pervaded her life, and she is an amiable example to her 
sex that it is possible to combine, without danger to its morals 
or religious principles, a manly understanding with a feminine 
and susceptible heart. 


624 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


REGINALD HEBER. 



ISHOP of Calcutta, was born at Malpas, in 
Cheshire, on the 21st of April, 1783. He 
acquired the rudiments of learning at White- 
church grammar school; and, after prosecut¬ 
ing his studies, for some time, at Dr. Bristow’s 
academy, in the neighbourhood of London, he 
was entered, in 1800, at Brazen-nose College, 
Oxford. His classical acquirements, at this 
time, were far from extensive; but natural abili¬ 
ties and unremitting application soon raised him 
to a par with his collegiate contemporaries; and, in 
1802, he gained the university prize for a copy of 
Latin hexameters. In the spring of 1803, he wrote 
his celebrated poem of Palestine; for which, in that 
year, he also obtained a prize. It is related, that, on 
ascending the rostrum to recite this beautiful composi¬ 
tion, perceiving two ladies of Jewish extraction among his 
auditory, he determined on altering some lines, in which he had 
reflected severely on their race; but that not having an oppor¬ 
tunity to communicate his intention to the prompter, the latter 
checked him, on his attempting to deliver the passage in the 
manner he wished; and he was, consequently, obliged to pro¬ 
nounce it as it had been originally written. The applause with 
which he was greeted, on this occasion, is reported to have pro¬ 
duced a serious effect on his venerable father, who, it is stated, 
may almost be said to have died with joy, shortly after witness¬ 
ing his son’s triumph. On retiring from the theatre, Heber 
escaped from the congratulations of his friends, to thank the 
Almighty in solitude; “not so much for his talents,” says Mrs. 
Heber, “ as that those talents had enabled him to give unmixed 
happiness to his parents.” 

He now applied himself to the study of mathematics and the 




REGINALD IIEBER. 


525 


higher classics, and his diligence was rewarded with extraor¬ 
dinary success. In 1805, he took the degree of B. A., and soon 
afterwards gained a third university prize, for an “Essay on the 
Sense of Honour.” After having been elected a Fellow of All 
Souls, he quitted Oxford, and proceeded on a tour through Ger¬ 
many, Russia, and the Crimea; during which he made several 
excellent notes, which were afterwards appended to the Travels 
of Dr. Clarke. 

On his return to England, in 1808, he proceeded M. A.; 
and, shortly afterwards, published a political poem, entitled, 
u Europe:—Lines on the present War. ” He now retired, with his 
wife, a daughter of Dr. Shipley, Dean of St. Asaph, to the liv¬ 
ing of Hodnet, to which he had recently been presented ; and, 
for some time, wholly devoted himself to the humble but impor¬ 
tant duties of his station. In 1815, he preached at the Bamp- 
ton lecture, a series of sermons, which he published in the follow¬ 
ing year, “ On the Personality and Office of the Christian Com¬ 
forter.” About the same time, he composed several articles for 
a Dictionary of the Bible; and printed a discourse, which he 
had delivered before the Bishop of Chester. In 1820, his life 
was endangered by a malignant fever, with which he had been 
infected, by fearlessly visiting some of his sick parishioners. In 
1822, he was appointed preacher at Lincoln’s Inn; and pro¬ 
duced a life of Jeremy Taylor, prefixed to a new edition of that 
eminent writer’s productions. Soon afterwards, he was offered 
the bishopric of Calcutta; which, after twice refusing, he, at 
length, on the suggestion of his wife, consented to accept; and 
embarked for the East Indies, in June, 1823. In the preceding 
April, he had preached an affecting farewell sermon to his par¬ 
ishioners ; who, on his departure from Hodnet, had presented 
him with a piece of plate, as a memorial of their gratitude and 
esteem. 

During his voyage, he occupied himself in studying Hindos- 
tanee and Persian; feeling satisfied, as he expressed himself, 
that, if he did not know them both, in a year or two, at least 
as well as he knew French and German, that the fault would 
be in his capacity, and not in his diligence. On the 10th of 
October, he landed at Calcutta, and immediately exerted him¬ 
self, with great anxiety, to compose some clerical differences 
that had arisen in his diocese. No sooner was this great object 


526 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


effected, than he commenced a series of laborious progresses 
through his extensive bishopric; during which he consecrated 
several churches, and signalized himself, by his pious endeavours 
to diffuse Christianity among the Hindoos. His last visitation 
was to the Presidency of Madras. At Trinchinopoly, on the 3d 
of April, 1826, after having greatly fatigued himself in the dis¬ 
charge of his episcopal duties, he retired to his chamber, and 
imprudently plunged into a cold bath; at the bottom of which, 
he was found, quite dead, about half an hour afterwards, by one 
of his servants. His remains were interred at St. John’s church, 
^Trinchinopoly; and a subscription was opened, soon after his 
death, for the erection of a monument to his memory, at 
Madras. 

In person he was tall, and rather thin ; his hair was dark, 
his countenance pale, the expression of his features intellectual, 
and his deportment dignified. He appears to have had no ene¬ 
mies ; whoever mentions his name, more or less eulogizes his 
character. He possessed great talents, considerable eloquence, 
and a most amiable disposition. Though anxious to exert him¬ 
self in the diffusion of Christian knowledge, he sought not to 
extend the sphere of his influence, either by adulation or intrigue. 
He embarked in no controversy, shared in no dispute, but lived 
in perfect charity with all men. Peace and good-will attended 
him wheresoever he went: he was enthusiastically admired dur¬ 
ing his pious career, and generally lamented at its close. 


WILLIAM CAREY. 


527 


WILLIAM CAREY. 



.AREY was born at Hackleton, in Leicester¬ 
shire,* on the 17th of August, 1761. The 
circumstances of his parents were extremely 
narrow, and he had few advantages of educa¬ 
tion, except those which his own active and 
inquiring mind obtained for him. He was 
brought up as a journeyman shoemaker; and 
a boot made by him is still preserved by one of 
his friends as a relic. It was about the year 1779, 
when he was in his eighteenth year, that young 
Carey became the subject of a decided religious 
change. Up to that time, he had discovered no piety, 
and had even ridiculed religious people. The conver¬ 
sation of a fellow-apprentice, the occasional ministry of 
the Rev. Thomas Scott, the Expositor, and the perusal 
of the “Help to Zion’s Travellers,” by Robert Hall, the 
elder, are stated to have been the means of his conversion. Mr. 
Scott was not aware of having been instrumental in producing 
this happy change in Carey’s mind, until he learned it from a 
message conveyed to him from the venerable missionary him¬ 
self, through Dr. Ryland, more than forty years after. “ He 
heard me preach only a few times,” Mr. Scott wrote in reply, 
“ and that, so far as I know, in my rather irregular excursions; 
though I often conversed and prayed in his presence, and en¬ 
deavoured to answer his sensible and pertinent inquiries, at 
Hackleton. But to have conveyed a single useful hint to such 
a mind as his, may be considered as a high privilege and matter 
of gratitude.” 

The change in young Carey’s sentiments and feelings soon 
became visible to his family, in his altered conduct and conver- 


* An article in the Liverpool Times states, that he was born at Paulers- 
bury, in Northamptonshire; but this we presume to be a mistake. 



528 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

sation, and was the subject of wonder. “ For some time he 
stood alone in his father’s house.” At length he asked and ob¬ 
tained leave to introduce family prayer. “When in his nine¬ 
teenth year,” says his sister, “ my dear brother used to speak 
(on religious topics) at a friend’s house in the village, when he 
came to see us. I recollect a neighbour of ours, a good wo¬ 
man, the first Monday morning after he had spoken before a 
few friends, came in to congratulate my mother on the occa¬ 
sion ; when with some surprise my mother said: 4 What! do 
you think he will be a preacher?’ ‘Yes,’ our friend replied, 

< and a great one too if he lives.’ My father felt a great desire 
to hear him, if he could go undiscovered. In this, he was after¬ 
wards gratified^ though unknown to my brother or any one at 
the time. We could tell he was gratified, although he never 
discovered any thing to us like praise. In a few years, I hope, 
God gave him the desire of his heart, in bringing his two sisters 
to see a beauty in religion. Then we were dear indeed to each 
other.” 

In 1783, Mr. Carey united himself to the Baptist church at 
Olney, under the pastoral care of the Rev. Mr. Sutcliff. By 
this church, agreeably to the practice which then obtained 
among that denomination, he was, in 1785, called to the work 
of the ministry. In the following year, he removed to Moul¬ 
ton, a village four miles from Northampton; and he was or¬ 
dained pastor over the infant Baptist society in that village in 
1787. Even there, his whole income being much below <£20 a 
year, he taught a village school for his support. In July, 1789, 
he removed to Leicester, and in May, 1791, was ordained to the 
pastoral charge of the Baptist church meeting in Harvey Lane, 
over which the late Robert Hall afterwards presided for so 
many years. Here his ministry was so successful, that the 
number of members in the church was doubled during the short 
time he was their pastor. He introduced among them the prac¬ 
tice, first adopted by some ministers at Nottingham, upon Mr. 
Sutcliff’s suggestion, in 1784, of spending an hour on the even¬ 
ing of the first Monday in every month, in social prayer for 
the revival of religion and the success of the gospel, which has 
since become so general; and these meetings powerfully contri¬ 
buted to cherish the fine spirit which they discovered, when he 
announced his resolution to dedicate himself to the work of 


WILLIAM CAREY. 


529 


evangelizing the heathen. “ No,” said they, “ you shall not 
go ,—we will send you: we have long been calling upon God, 
and he now calls upon us to make the first sacrifice.” 

The circumstances which decided him upon going out to India, 
are thus stated by the Rev. Christopher Anderson: 

“ About the year 1793, a gentleman of the name of Thomas, 
who had visited Bengal, and there seen the wretched supersti¬ 
tion and ignorance of the Hindoos, and the destructive influ¬ 
ence of their sanguinary, sensual, and monstrous superstitions 
on their religious feelings, morals, and happiness, being himself 
strongly impressed with the vast importance of introducing the 
religion of Britain into the extensive and populous regions sub¬ 
jugated by her arms and ruled by her governors, greatly 
strengthened by his conversation the desire which had been for 
some time growing in Dr. Carey’s mind to see a strenuous effort 
made for the religious improvement of the heathen world. In 
consequence, Dr. Carey and Mr. Thomas communicated with 
Andrew Fuller, Dr. Ryland, and other leading members of the 
Baptist denomination, on the subject; and after much discus¬ 
sion a society was established for that purpose, which com¬ 
menced its labours with between <£13 and £14, a§ the whole 
amount of its disposable funds! With no better pecuniary 
prospects than these, but with a firm and unbending faith, and 
a determination not to be deterred by difficulties, Dr. Carey 
agreed to go out to India, and there to support himself as far 
as possible by his own exertions, while he qualified himself for 
his missionary duties. 

“ The circumstances under which he quitted England were 
singular and interesting. From the first, his wife had refused 
to embark in what appeared so hopeless an undertaking; and, 
after every entreaty had failed to change her determination, 
Dr. Carey and Mr. Thomas (who went out with him) were com¬ 
pelled to sail without her. After they had proceeded a short 
distance on their voyage, the captain of the East Indiaman by 
which they had taken their passage, came to Mr. Thomas, and 
told him that he had received an anonymous letter, informing 
him that there was a person on board who was proceeding to 
India, without a license from the company. As the regulations 
of the East India Company, in reference to persons going out 
to India, were at that time singularly rigid, and it is well known 
67 2 Y 


530 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


that the directors were peculiarly averse to any attempts of a 
missionary character, the captain added, that he was satisfied 
this letter must refer to Mr. Thomas. This surmise afterwards 
proved to have been unfounded; but as the captain seemed to 
be greatly alarmed by the apprehension of the consequences to 
himself, if Mr. Thomas insisted on the engagement into which 
he and the captain had mutually entered, he was, at length, 
induced to yield to the entreaties of the captain, and he and 
Mr. Carey were put on shore, the vessel immediately proceeding 
on its voyage. This event was, at the moment, a severe disap¬ 
pointment : but having learned that a Danish vessel was to leave 
Deal for Calcutta in two days, they took courage-, determining 
to avail themselves of that interval, short as it was, to revisit 
Mrs. Carey, and urge their plea in favour of her accompanying 
them. A difficulty occurred in the want of funds for the in¬ 
creased charge of a passage by the ship in question, and of the 
expenses of travelling, which they were thus unexpectedly ex¬ 
posed to. This difficulty, however, was surmounted by Dr. 
Rippon, who still survives, having promptly lent them £100 
which he had on hand; and by the late Mr. Abraham Booth 
borrowing for their use a like sum from his friends. Thus fur¬ 
nished, they hasted down to Mrs. Carey, having barely time to 
accomplish this object. To their great grief, however, she again 
turned a deaf ear to all their entreaties, and they, with heavy 
hearts, took, as they thought, a last farewell, and left her. 
When they had proceeded two miles from the house, Mr. Thomas 
insisted that they should turn back and make one more attempt. 
Mr. Carey objected, entreating his companion to spare his feel¬ 
ings, and not to allow them to be further harrowed by perse¬ 
verance in a hopeless effort. Mr. Thomas seemed, however, so 
resolutely bent on his renewed effort, that at length they did 
turn back ; again used every argument that could suggest itself, 
but apparently with as little success as before, till at length, 
moved by her husband’s tears and entreaties, Mrs. Carey, turn¬ 
ing to her sister, who stood by, said that if her sister would ac¬ 
company her, but not else, she would consent to go. The sister 
was then appealed to, and at length, though apparently with 
great reluctance, they both yielded. Not a moment was now 
to be lost. The wife, the sister, four children, and as much of 
their clothes and furniture as was indispensable for the voyage, 


WILLIAM CAREY. 


531 


were hurried off to Deal. On their arrival there, the vessel 
was descried under sail, with scarcely the possibility of their 
overtaking her. The attempt however was made, and, by dint 
of persevering labour, they approached the ship, on which the 
captain backed his sails, and received them all safe on board, 
conveying them, at length, to their destination. 

“ On their arrival in India, Dr. Carey and Mr. Thomas imme¬ 
diately proceeded to act upon the intention they had avowed on 
quitting their own shores, of receiving no further pecuniary aid 
from the friends of the mission than might be necessary for 
their existence. In pursuance of this determination, therefore, 
they both engaged themselves in a secular employment, which 
enabled them, by constant intercourse with the natives, to be¬ 
come familiar with their vernacular language. Although Mr. 
Carey, who had obtained the superintendence of an indigo fac¬ 
tory, at a considerable distance in the interior, was thus far 
removed from the observation of the ruling authorities in Cal¬ 
cutta, his frequent conversations with the natives on the subject 
of religion were soon reported there : he was immediately called 
to account, and, on his admitting that his design was to evan¬ 
gelize the heathen, he was told that the residence of missiona¬ 
ries in India, of any denomination, would not be tolerated ; and 
that he must forthwith re-embark for England. This cruel and 
impolitic proceeding drove Mr. Carey to seek refuge in the 
Danish settlement of Serampore, about thirteen miles from Cal¬ 
cutta, where he was joined, in January, 1800, by Ward, Marsh- 
man, and others; all of whom, except Dr. Marshman and his 
son, who joined his exertions to theirs some years afterwards, 
have entered into their rest.” 

Upon his arrival in India, the first language to which Mr. 
Carey turned his attention was the vernacular tongue of the 
people among whom he lived and died. But he soon perceived 
that the Sanscrit was the grand root of oriental literature, the 
key to all its treasures; and by the year 1796, he had begun 
to study both that language and the Hindoostanee. In Janu¬ 
ary, 1800, he removed to Serampore, and in the following year 
was appointed professor in the new Government College of Fort 
William. Early in the same year, the Bengalee New Testa¬ 
ment was finished at the mission press. This translation of the 
sacred Scriptures into the vernacular tongue of at least twenty- 


532 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


five millions, had been commenced by Mr. Carey as early as the 
spring of 1794 ; Mr. Thomas haying, however, previously ac¬ 
complished a translation of part of the New Testament. By 
the close of 1796, the translation of the New Testament was 
completed for revision. In July, 1800, the Gospel by Matthew 
began to be distributed among the natives. At length, after 
being nine months in the press, the first edition of the Bengalee 
New Testament, (octavo, 900 pages,) consisting of two thou¬ 
sand copies, was issued on the 7th of February, 1801. This 
was followed, in 1802, by the Pentateuch in the same language, 
and in 1803, by the Psalms and other portions of the Old Tes¬ 
tament. A small impression of the Gospel of Matthew in 
Mahratta, was issued in 1805 ; and a second edition of the 
Bengalee New Testament in 1806. In 1809, the New Testa¬ 
ment in Orissa, and in Sanscrit, were completed at press; and 
some portions of the Old Testament in Orissa had been issued, 
besides an edition of the Mahratta New Testament, of the Hin- 
dostanee New Testament, and the four gospels in Persian, when, 
on the 11th of March, 1812, the printing office was destroyed 
by fire! 

The assembling of so many learned pundits from all parts of 
India in the College of Fort William, threw into the hands of 
Dr. Carey a living polyglot apparatus such as he could not 
otherwise have obtained: and the overruling hand of Divine 
Providence was strikingly manifested in the whole business. 
But how extraordinary must have been the energy of the mind 
which could grasp so vast a plan, and direct the movements of 
the subordinate instruments employed in this great work, upon 
which his soul was bent! 

Aptitude for acquiring languages was Dr. Carey’s most 
wonderful natural endowment. Before he left England for 
India, he had contrived, amid the pressure of poverty and the 
constant engagements of his school and pastoral office, to make 
himself sufficiently master of six languages, besides his native 
tongue, to read the Bible in each; viz. Latin, Greek, Hebrew, 
French, Italian, and Dutch. His knowledge of the last lan¬ 
guage was acquired, without the intervention of one elementary 
book, through some Dutch quarto obtained from an old woman. 

For a complete list of Dr. Carey’s literary labours, and of 
the publications issued from the Serampore press, we must refer 


WILLIAM CAREY. 


533 


the reader to the highly interesting 44 Tenth Memoir of the 
Serampore Brethren.” The entire Scriptures have been printed 
in six of the languages of India, besides that stupendous work 
of Carey’s beloved and inseparable companion in labour, Dr. 
Marshman, the Chinese Bible ; the New Testament has been 
printed in twenty-three languages, and portions of the Scrip¬ 
tures in ten others. In few words, 44 God most graciously pro¬ 
longed the years of his servant, until he lived to see more than 
two hundred and thirteen thousand volumes of the Divine word, 
in forty different languages, issue from the Serampore press.” 

There are some other traits in the character of this admira¬ 
ble man, mentioned by Mr. Anderson, which must not be passed 
over. Speaking of his 44 enlarged humanity,” Mr. Anderson 
remarks, that 44 long familiarity with the miseries of Hindooism 
has hardened by degrees the heart of many a European in his 
day; they never could the heart of Carey.” 

u His exertions unquestionably first led to the prevention of 
infanticide, and that of persons devoting themselves to death at 
Saugur island in the mouth of the Hooghly; and though the 
immolation of widows on the funeral pile went on, it was through 
his influence that the Marquis of Wellesley left a minute, on his 
retiring from the Indian government, declaring his conviction 
that suttees might , and ought to he abolished. The truth I be¬ 
lieve to be this, that previously to the return of the marquis in 
1805, or thirty years ago, Dr. Carey submitted three memorials 
to government, the first relating to the exposure of infants in 
the northern parts of Bengal, the others to Saugur island and 
the inhuman practice of suttee. The two first evils were soon 
and very easily abolished, but of the latter, Carey and his breth¬ 
ren never lost sight. In 1817, the valuable document, drawn 
up on examination of the Shastras of highest authority, to prove 
that it was decidedly contrary to the law of Munoo ; and which 
after being laid before Mr. Harrington, the first judge of the 
chief native court of justice, was deposited for preservation in 
the library of Serampore College, may be adduced in proof. 
In 1822, also a powerful article against this dreadful custom 
was inserted in the quarterly 4 Friend of India,’ which, after 
abundant proofs and many arguments, closed in these expressive 
words of Scripture, 4 If thou forbear to deliver them that are 
drawn unto death, and those that are ready to be slain; if thou 

2 t 2 


534 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


say, Behold we knew it not, doth not He that pondereth the 
heart consider it ? and He that keepeth thy soul, doth not He 
know it ? and shall not He render to every man according to 
his works ?’ After this the Sumachar Durpun , or Serampore 
Bengalee and English newspaper, lent all its powerful aid, till 
on the 4th of December, 1829, ‘the burning or burying alive 
of the Hindoo widow,’ was declared by the governor-general in 
council to be illegal , a day never to be forgotten in India. 
There have been other individuals who lent their aid ; but surely 
if the blessing of them that are ready to perish come upon the 
heads of any, then Carey and his companions must come in for 
their share. 

«I only add, that in the attempt to establish a leper hospital 
in Calcutta, Dr. Carey, it is well known, took an active part. 
The Benevolent Institution, in the same' city, for the education 
of the indigent and neglected Portuguese children, was esta¬ 
blished by the senior Serampore brethren in 1809, and has con¬ 
tinued under their management to the present day. They were 
the first who commenced the education of the Hindoo female, 
and schools for boys have long been formed at their stations 
scattered over India.” 

Disinterestedness and Christian generosity were prominent 
features in the character of Carey and his brethren. The total 
amount of the sums raised by their exertions, and consecrated 
by them to their great enterprise, it would not be easy to esti¬ 
mate ; but Mr. Anderson states, that since the year 1827, be¬ 
tween <£7000 and £8000 sterling have been devoted by the Se¬ 
rampore brethren to those great undertakings in which, through 
life, they have been employed. But we hasten to notice the 
concluding scene of the life of the venerable father of the mis¬ 
sion, which was extended until within two months and a week of 
his seventy-third year. God gave him to see, in that foreign land, 
the climate of which is so trying to a British constitution, not 
only his children’s children, but even the third generation; for it 
is now some years since Dr. Carey became a great-grandfather. 

For rather more than a month before his decease, Dr. Carey 
had been confined to his couch, reduced to a state of extreme 
weakness, but with no disease but a gradual decay of nature. 
He suffered no pain, continued to sleep at night, and, being laid 
on his couch, remained comparatively at ease all the day,—un- 


WILLIAM CAREY. 


535 


derstanding what he heard, hut unable to speak;—his mind in 
the most placid and tranquil state;—having not a doubt, and, 
as he often told his venerable colleague, Dr. Marshman, not a 
wish left unsatisfied. His weakness, however, gradually in¬ 
creased, until he became, at last, almost unconscious of what 
was passing around him. 

“The last Sabbath of his life,” writes Dr. Marshman to Mr. 
Anderson, “June 8th, 1834,1 visited him about noon, eighteen 
hours before his decease, and found him lying on his couch by 
the side of the table, in his dining-room above stairs, placed 
there for the sake of the air. He was scarcely able to articu¬ 
late, and, after a little conversation, I knelt down by the side of 
his couch and prayed with him. Finding my mind unexpectedly 
drawn out to bless God for his goodness, in having preserved 
him and blessed him in India for above forty years, and made 
him such an instrument of good to his church; and to entreat 
that on his being taken home, a double portion of his spirit 
might rest upon those who remained behind: though unable to 
speak, he testified sufficiently by his countenance how cordially 
he joined in this prayer. I then asked Mrs. Carey whether she 
thought he could now see me. She said, Yes, and to convince 
me, said, 4 Mr. Marshman wishes to know whether you now see 
him ?’ He answered so loud that I could hear him, 4 Yes, I do,’ 
and shook me most cordially by the hand. I then left him, and 
my other duties did not permit me to reach him again that day. 
The next morning, as I was returning home before sunrise, I 
met our brethren, Mack and Leechman, out on their morning 
ride, when Mack told me, that our beloved brother had been 
rather worse all the night, and that he had just left him very 
ill. I immediately hastened home through the college, in which 
he has lived these ten years, and when I reached his room, found 
that he had just entered into the joy of his Lord,—Mrs. Carey, 
his second son, Jabez, my son John, and Mrs. Mack, being pre¬ 
sent.” 

“ It is an interesting fact,” says another of the Serampore 
brethren, 44 that the very last thing in which our dear doctor 
appeared to take any interest, was the mission; and it must gra¬ 
tify our friends at home not a little to know, that his last thoughts 
respecting it were thoughts of gratitude, thanksgiving, and 
praise.” 


536 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


DR. MARSHMAN.* 

T is with feelings of the deepest regret that 
we announce the decease of the Rev. Dr. 
Marshman, after a long missionary career of 
thirty-eight years. He had been gradually 
sinking during the year, under the weight of 
age and infirmities, and expired at Serampore 
on the 5th December, 1837, at the advanced 
age of sixty-nine years. 

The Rev. Dr. Marshman was horn of humble 
parentage, in the village of Westbury Leigh, in 
Wiltshire, on the 20th April, 1768, where the cot¬ 
tage in which he first drew breath may yet be seen. 
Of his family little is known, except that they traced 
their descent from an officer in the army of Crom¬ 
well—one of that band who, at the Restoration, re¬ 
linquished, for conscience’ sake, all views of worldly 
aggrandizement, and retired into the country, to support them¬ 
selves by their own industry. 

His father, a man of strong mind, undaunted intrepidity, 
and inflexible integrity, passed the early part of his life at sea, 
and was engaged in the Hind sloop-of-war, commanded by 
Captain Bond, at the capture of Quebec, the action in which 
the gallant Wolfe fell; but, shortly after, he returned to Eng¬ 
land, determining to settle among the humble and honest ma¬ 
nufacturers of his native country, and, taking up his residence 
in Westbury Leigh, he married, and turned his attention to the 
weaving trade. Hence he was subsequently unable to afford 
his son any education beyond what his native village supplied, 
except in his own Christian principles, and he lived to see the 
principles he had instilled ripen into the most enlarged and 



*From the “Friend of India,” December, 1837. 



DR. MARSHMAN. 


537 


active benevolence. Dr. Marshman, from a very early age, 
exhibited so extraordinary a thirst for knowledge as to convince 
his family and friends that he was destined for something higher 
than the loom. At the age of eight, he first began a course 
of desultory reading, snatching every moment from labour and 
play to devote to his books. He has assured the writer of this 
memorial, that, between the age of ten and eighteen, he had 
devoured the contents of more than five hundred volumes. Thus, 
at an early period, he was enabled to lay in a vast store of 
knowledge, which, improved by subsequent study, made his 
conversation so rich and instructive. After reading all the 
volumes which so humble a village could furnish, he extended 
his researches to a greater distance, and often travelled a dozen 
of miles out and home to borrow a book. Having no one to 
direct his pursuits, he read promiscuously whatever fell in his 
way with the utmost avidity. But it was to biography, and 
more particularly to history, that the bent of his mind was di¬ 
rected. So much so, indeed, that, when his -parents, on the 
death of an elder brother, endeavoured to direct his thoughts to 
the joys of heaven, he declared that he felt no disinclination to 
contemplate them, provided there was room to believe that the 
reading of history would not be incompatible with the pursuits 
of that blessed region. Among the early incidents of his life, 
it -was long remembered in his native village that a neighbour¬ 
ing clergyman, passing with a friend through Westbury, while 
he was playing at marbles, put his reading and memory to the 
test by a long series of questions upon the more ancient history 
of England, and declared his astonishment at the correct re¬ 
plies which he received to every inquiry. At the age of twelve, 
the clergyman of his own parish meeting him one day with a 
book in his pocket, too large for it to conceal, asked him seve¬ 
ral questions, and, among the rest, the names of the kings of 
Israel from the beginning to the Babylonish captivity, and, be¬ 
ing struck with the accuracy of his replies, desired him to call 
at his house in future for any book he might wish to read. 

On his reaching the house, the clergyman begged he would 
tell him whom he thought the best preacher, the dissenting mi¬ 
nister of the town or himself. With the certainty on the one 
hand that the first named excelled, and the fear on the other 
of losing the promised treat, he hesitated for a moment; but, 
68 


538 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


determining not to purchase even this at the expense of truth, 
he begged to be allowed to refer him to the answer of Melville, 
who, when asked by Queen Elizabeth whether she or his royal 
mistress of Scotland excelled in beauty, replied that each was 
handsomest in her own kingdom, and desired him to accept that 
as his answer. At the age of fifteen, his father sent him up to 
London, to Mr. Cator, the bookseller, in the Strand, in the 
hope that some path would open for his obtaining a livelihood 
in a sphere more congenial with his tastes than a weaver’s cot¬ 
tage. Here he was employed on errands; but, at every inter¬ 
val of leisure, availed himself of the new facilities he enjoyed 
for reading. When sent out with parcels, he too frequently 
spent half his time in perusing the books with which he was 
charged, instead of taking them to their destination. His mas¬ 
ter declared that he could make nothing of him, and that he 
would never succeed as a bookseller. His life in the shop was 
not of the most agreeable description, and it was embittered 
by the prospect of being condemned to a life of such unintel¬ 
lectual drudgery. On one occasion, having been sent to the Duke 
of Grafton with three folio volumes of “ Clarendon’s History,” 
and several other books, he was overcome with fatigue and de¬ 
spondency at the tasks to which he was subjected, and walking 
into Westminster Hall, laid down his load and began to weep. 
But the bitterness of his feelings soon passed off; the associa¬ 
tions of the place with which his reading had made him fami¬ 
liar crowded into his mind, and appeared to fill him with new 
energy, and he determined, as he has often told us, in however 
humble a situation he might be placed, to continue storing his 
mind with knowledge, till the fitting opportunity should come 
round for his emancipation. He returned to the country be¬ 
tween the ages of sixteen and seventeen, and resumed his ma¬ 
nual occupations, still continuing to indulge his irrepressible thirst 
for reading. He now turned his attention to divinity, and made 
himself familiar with the works of all the most celebrated di¬ 
vines, without distinction of sect, and those who have enjoyed 
the advantage of conversing with him on religious topics, can¬ 
not have failed to appreciate the industry which had given him 
so vast a store of knowledge. To these pursuits he added the 
study of Latin. The strength of mind displayed in these in¬ 
tellectual pursuits by one who was obliged to look for his daily 


DR. MARSHMAN. 


539 


bread to the labour of his own hand, will appear, on reflection, 
to form, perhaps, the most remarkable trait in his character. 
At the age of twenty-three, he married the granddaughter of 
the Rev. Mr. Clarke, the Baptist minister at Froome; and this 
change in his circumstances rendered him doubly anxious for a 
different sphere of life. 

At length the long-expected opportunity turned up. The 
post of master in a school supported by the church in Broad- 
mead, in the city of Bristol, became vacant; his friends urged 
him to apply for it. He came up to Bristol, underwent an ex¬ 
amination before the committee of management, and was una¬ 
nimously accepted. The salary was small—£40 a year ; but it' 
brought him into a new circle, where his energies and talent 
might have play. He removed to that city at the age of twenty? 
five, and obtained permission to devote the time not occupied 
in this school to one of his own. This seminary was soon 
crowded with pupils. It rose rapidly in public estimation, and 
placed him at once in circumstances of independence. Among 
his scholars was the late lamented and amiable Mr. Rich, the 
resident at Bagdad, whose work on Babylon has given him so 
just a celebrity. But the chief advantage of his position at 
Bristol was the introduction it afforded him to Dr. Ryland, the 
president of the Baptist Academy. He entered as a student 
in that seminary, and devoted every moment which he could 
spare from his avocations to study under so able a master. He 
applied diligently to the Greek and Hebrew languages, and sub¬ 
sequently added to them Arabic and Syriac, in which his at¬ 
tainments, though not profound,.were greatly above mediocrity. 
In this congenial course of improvement, he passed six of the 
happiest years of his life. By the advice of Dr. Ryland, he 
prepared himself for the ministry, for which his great theolo¬ 
gical reading had well fitted him, and there was every prospect 
of his becoming an ornament to the denomination, in his native 
land, with which he was associated. But a nobler field of exer¬ 
tion was now opened before him, for which, in the economy of 
Providence, this previous training appears evidently to have 
been intended to prepare him. 

Dr. Carey, who had been employed for six years in India in 
che new and untried field of missionary labour, while his fu¬ 
ture colleague was completing his studies at Bristol, had re- 


540 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

quested the Baptist Missionary Society, of which Dr. Ryland 
was one of the founders, to send more labourers into the vine¬ 
yard. Dr. Ryland proposed the subject to his pupil, and found 
that it was not altogether new to his mind, as the perusal of 
the periodical accounts of the mission had begun to kindle in 
his mind an anxiety for India. He was accepted by the so¬ 
ciety, then in its infancy, as a missionary, and embarked with 
Mr. Grant, one of his own pupils, Mr. Ward, and Mr. Bruns- 
don, in the Criterion , an American vessel. They arrived in 
the river in October, and, intending to proceed to Mudnabatty 
to join Dr. Carey, were advised to take up their abode tempo¬ 
rarily at Serampore, where they landed on the 13th October, 
1799. It was about this time that the fear of an invasion of 
India by the French predominated in the councils of India, se¬ 
veral French emissaries, in the guise of priests, having been 
detected about the country. In announcing the arrival of Dr. 
Marshman and his associates, the printer of one of the Calcutta 
papers, who had never heard of the existence of a Baptist deno¬ 
mination, set forth that four Papist missionaries had arrived 
in a foreign ship, and proceeded up to a foreign settlement. 
The paragraph could not fail to catch Lord Wellesley’s eye. 
The captain was instantly summoned to the police, and in¬ 
formed that his ship would be refused a port-clearance, unless 
he engaged to take back the Papist missionaries. He explained 
the mistake, and in one respect removed the. fears of govern¬ 
ment ; but there w T as so strong a disposition manifested to ob¬ 
struct missionary operations, upon a plea of their dangerous 
tendency, that the missionaries found they could not reside 
with any confidence in the British territories, and that it was 
wise to accept of the countenance and protection which was so 
generally offered them by the Danish authorities. Dr. Carey 
felt the full force of their arguments, and soon after came down 
to join them, and thus commenced the Serampore mission. 

Three congenial minds were thus brought together by the 
appointment of Providence, and they lost no time in laying a 
broad basis for their future operations. They threw their whole 
souls into the noble enterprise, which demanded all their cou¬ 
rage and zeal, since, from the British government they had 
nothing but the sternest opposition to expect, the moment the 
extension and the success of their labours should bring them 


DR. MARSHMAN. 


541 


into public notice. The resources of the society were totally 
inadequate to the support of all the missionary families now in 
the field. Indeed, Dr. Marshman and his associates had come 
out with the distinct understanding that they were to receive 
support only till they could support themselves. They imme¬ 
diately began to open independent sources of income. Dr. 
Carey obtained the post of professor in the College of Fort 
William, then recently established. Dr. and Mrs. Marshman 
opened a boarding-school, and Mr. Ward established a printing 
office, and laboured with his own hands in setting the types of 
the first edition of the Bengalee New Testament, which Dr. 
Carey had brought with him. Dr. Carey’s motto, “ Expect 
great things—attempt great things,” became the watchword of 
the three. They determined, by a noble sacrifice of individual 
interests and comforts, to live as one family, and to throw their 
united income into one joint stock, to be devoted to the com¬ 
mon cause. Merging all minor differences of opinion in a 
sacred anxiety for the promotion of the great enterprise which 
absorbed their minds, they made a combined movement for the 
diffusion of truth and knowledge in India. To the hostility of 
government, and to every discouragement which arose from 
the nature of the undertaking, they opposed a. spirit of Chris¬ 
tian meekness and calm perseverance. They stood in the front 
of the battle of Indian missions, and, during the arduous strug¬ 
gle, which terminated with the charter of 1813, in granting 
missionaries free access to India, they never for a moment de¬ 
serted their post, or despaired of success. When, at a subse¬ 
quent period, Lord Hastings, who honoured them with his 
kind, support, had occasion to revert in conversation to the se¬ 
vere conflict they had passed through, he assured them that, in 
his opinion, the freedom of resort to India, which missionaries 
then enjoyed, was owing, under God, to the prudence, the zeal, 
and the wisdom, which they had manifested, when the whole 
weight of government in England and India was directed to 
the extinction of the missionary enterprise. 

It would be impossible, within the limits to which we must 
confine ourselves, to enumerate the plans which they formed 
for the mission for translations of the sacred Scriptures, and 
for education; or the obstacles which tried the strength of their 
principles. Neither is it possible to individualize Dr. Marshman’s 

2 Z 


542 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


efforts in every case, for so complete was the unity of their de¬ 
signs that it seemed as if three great souls had been united in 
one, so as to have but one object, and to be imbued with one im¬ 
pulse. But, with this unity of design, there was necessarily a 
division of labour, and we may briefly state, therefore, the par¬ 
ticular objects which engaged Dr. Marshman’s time and atten¬ 
tion. In 1806, he applied himself diligently to the study of 
the Chinese language, and was enabled to publish a translation 
of the entire Scriptures, and a grammar in that tongue. The 
Loll Bazar Chapel, erected at a time when the means of reli¬ 
gious instruction in Calcutta were small, and when religious 
feeling was at so low an ebb that even Martyn could not com¬ 
mand on an evening a congregation of more than twenty, was 
mainly indebted for its existence to Dr. Marshman’s personal 
efforts. When the erection of it was suspended for lack of 
funds, he went about from house to house raising subscriptions 
for it, and for his pains was exhibited in masquerade at an en¬ 
tertainment given to Lord Minto, as a “ pious missionary, beg¬ 
ging subscriptions.”* To him the Benevolent Institution in 
Calcutta was indebted for its birth and subsequent vigour. The 
idea of it struck out when Dr. Leyden, Dr. Marshman, and 
Dr. Hare, were dining together, and the prospectus, drawn up 
by Dr. Marshman, was carefully revised by Dr. Leyden. He 
continued to act as secretary to the institution to the last mo. 
ment in which his health permitted him to act. He was also 
associated with Dr. Carey in the translation of the “ Ramayun” 
into English, of which three volumes were published. To the 
plan of native schools, he gave up much time and labour, and 
the valuable “ Hints” which he published in the form of a pam¬ 
phlet, just at the time when the first efforts were made for edu¬ 
cation in India, thirty-two years ago, was deemed worthy of 
being incorporated with one of the leading publications in Eng¬ 
land. 

In 1826, he revisited England, after an absence of twenty- 
seven years, and travelled through the United Kingdom, en¬ 
deavouring, by his public addresses, and in private conversa- 

* His friend, Dr. Leyden, was present at the masked ball, and, as it was 
said that the subscription list was very full, Dr. M. endeavoured to discover 
his representative, that he might ask for the funds ; but Leyden would never 
disclose the name, which led Dr. Marshman to tell him that there was more 
humour than honesty in the transaction. 



DR. MARS HMAN. 


543 


tion, to urge on the cause of missions, and there are many now 
in India to whom this notice will recall, with a melancholy plea¬ 
sure, the warmth and animation which he was the means of 
communicating to their minds on that subject. He visited 
Denmark, and was graciously received by his majesty Frede¬ 
rick the Sixth, to whose steady and uninterrupted protection 
the mission may be said to have been indebted for its existence, 
when assailed by the British government. His majesty was 
pleased to grant a charter of incorporation to Serampore Col¬ 
lege, upon Dr. Marshman’s petition. He returned to Serampore 
in May, 1829, and joined Dr. Carey and his associates in superin¬ 
tending the mission under the new form of an independent asso¬ 
ciation, which it had acquired. In June, 1834, he was deprived 
of this venerable friend and colleague, with whom he had been 
permitted to act for thirty-five years. He bore the sepa¬ 
ration with more firmness than was expected; but the dissolu¬ 
tion, cemented by the noblest of all undertakings, and sancti¬ 
fied by time, made a deep and visible impression on his mind. 
All the veneration and affection of his younger associates could 
not fill up the void created by the loss of Dr. Carey. He ap¬ 
peared among us as the solitary relic of a past age of great 
men. The activity of his mind, however, though with occa¬ 
sional interruptions, continued till the mind itself appeared to 
be worn out. The calamity which befell his daughter, Mrs. 
Havelock, at Landour, in October, 1837, produced a severe 
shock to his feelings, which, added to increasing infirmities, 
brought him gradually lower and lower. About six weeks be¬ 
fore his death, he was taken out on the river by the advice of 
Dr. Nicholson and Dr. Voigt, but his constitution was exhausted; 
yet, when the excitement of this short excursion, which was 
extended to Fort Glo’ster, had given him a small return of 
strength, both bodily and mental, the energy of former days 
seemed again to come over him, and he passed several days in 
arranging plans of usefulness, the accomplishment of which 
would have required years. At length, on Tuesday, the 5th 
of December, 1837, he gently sunk to rest, without pain or sor¬ 
row, in the lively enjoyment of that hope which is full of im¬ 
mortality. 

His form was tall and athletic. His constitution appeared 
to be constructed of iron. He exposed himself to all the se- 


544 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


verities of an Indian climate, with perfect impunity. He en¬ 
joyed, till within the last year of his life, such uninterrupted 
health as falls to the lot of few in India. During thirty-seven 
years, he had not taken medicine to the value of ten rupees. The 
strength of his body seemed to be admirably adapted, with, the 
structure of his mind, to fit him for the long career of useful¬ 
ness he was permitted to run. He was peculiarly remarkable 
for ceaseless industry. He usually rose at four, and despatched 
half the business of the day before breakfast. When extraor¬ 
dinary exertions appeared necessary, he seemed to have a per¬ 
fect command over sleep, and has been known, for days toge¬ 
ther, to take less than half his usual quantity of rest. His 
memory was great beyond that of most men. He recalled 
facts, with all their minute associations, with the utmost facility. 
This faculty he enjoyed to the last day of his existence. Dur¬ 
ing the last month of his life, when unable even to turn on his 
couch without assistance, he dictated to his daughter, Mrs. Voigt, 
his recollections of the early establishment. of the mission at 
Serampore, with a clearness and minuteness perfectly astonish¬ 
ing. The vast stores of knowledge which he had laid up in early 
life, and,to which he was making constant addition, rendered 
his personal intercourse in society a great enjoyment. His 
manners and deportment, particularly toward his inferiors, were 
remarkable for amenity and humility. To his family he was 
devoted almost to a fault,- so that his enemies found in this sub¬ 
ject a fertile field for crimination—with what generosity of feel¬ 
ing let every parent judge. During a union of more than 
forty-six years, he was the most devoted of husbands, and as 
the father of a family of twelve children, of whom only six 
lived to an age to appreciate his worth, and only five survived 
to deplore his loss, he was the most affectionate of parents. 

The leading trait of his character, more especially in the 
earlier part of his career, was energy and firmness ; this, com¬ 
bined with a spirit of strong perseverance, enabled him to as¬ 
sist in carrying out into effect those large views which he and 
his colleagues delighted to indulge in. His piety was deep and 
genuine; his religious sentiments were without bigotry. But 
the most distinguishing feature in his life was his ardent zeal 
for the caus£ of missions. This zeal never for a moment suf¬ 
fered any abatement, but seemed to gather strength from every 


DR. MARSHMAN. 


545 


new difficulty. The precious cause, as he latterly denominated 
it, occupied his dying thoughts as it had occupied his living ex¬ 
ertions, and the last question which he asked of those around 
him was, “ Can you think of any thing I can yet do for it ? M 
This, zeal was united with a degree of pecuniary disinterested¬ 
ness which has seldom been surpassed. He considered it his 
greatest privilege, that God had enabled him to lay on the altar 
of his cause so large a contribution from his own labours. With 
the means of amassing an ample fortune, he did not leave be¬ 
hind him, of all his own earnings in India for thirty-eight 
^years, more than the amount of a single year’s income of his 
seminary in its palmy days. 


546 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ROBERT MORRISON. 

OCTOR MORRISON’S father was James Mor¬ 
rison, who was born in Perthshire, Scotland, 
and who, when a young man, removed into* 
Northumberland. In early life he obtained a 
livelihood by husbandry, his father, (the 
grandfather of Dr. Morrison) having been 
also a husbandman; but, towards the latter 
end of his life, Mr. James Morrison worked at a 
mechanical trade, (that of a last and boot-tree 
maker,) and kept several workmen under him. He 
was a pious man, and was for many years an elder 
of a Scots church. The mother of Dr. Morrison 
was Sarah Nicholson, a native of Northumberland. 
Her father was a husbandman, and lived near Morpeth, 
where she was married to James Morrison. They had 
seven children, four sons, and three daughters. 

Robert, the youngest of their family, was born at Morpeth, 
January 5, 1782. About the year 1785, his parents removed 
to Newcastle, where he was taught reading and writing by his 
uncle, Mr. James Nicholson, a respectable schoolmaster; and 
at the proper age became an apprentice to his father. At the 
age of sixteen, he states, he became “seriously religious,” and, 
on the first of January, 1799, began to “keep a journal, and 
to study.” 

It is stated that his education was conducted under the imme¬ 
diate superintendence of the father, beneath whose paternal 
roof, both his religious and his intellectual character were 
formed; the former, by means of catechetical instructions, to¬ 
gether with those delivered from the pulpit by ministers of the 
Scottish church; the latter, by the tuition of the Rev. W. Laid- 
ler, minister of the Presbyterian meeting-house in Silver street, 
under whom Robert Morrison acquired an elementary acquaint- 



ROBERT MORRISON. 


547 


ance with the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages, some sys¬ 
tematic theology, and the art of writing short-hand. He has 
recorded that he began the study of Latin on the 19th of June, 
1801. His zeal, as a member of a society for the relief of the 
friendless poor, also, at that time, attracted the particular no¬ 
tice of his friends and neighbours. 

In 1802, his mother died: and in January, 1803, having then 
just entered his twenty-first year, he came to the metropolis, 
and was received as a student or probationer into the dissenting 
academy at Hoxton, on the 7th of that month. There he con¬ 
tinued till May 28, 1804, when he was accepted as a missionary, 
and was received under the patronage of the London Missionary 
Society, who sent him to their seminary at Gosport, to be edu¬ 
cated for that service, under the superintendence of the Rev. 
David Bogue. 

He returned to London in the summer of 1806; and, having 
chosen China as the field of his missionary labours, he, the 
better to qualify himself for them, obtained the assistance, as a 
preceptor, of a young Chinese, named Yong-Sam-Tae, by whose 
assistance, and with the practice he acquired in forming the 
Chinese character by transcribing a Chinese MS. of the Four 
Gospels, in the British Museum, and another, the property of 
the Royal Society, he made considerable progress in qualifying 
himself for his undertaking. In addition to the knowledge he 
thus acquired of the Chinese language, he had gained some ele¬ 
mentary acquaintance with medicine and surgery, by attending 
Dr. Blair’s course of lectures on medicine, and walking St. 
Bartholomew’s Hospital; and some insight into astronomy, from 
the instruction of Dr. Hutton of Greenwich, to whom he had 
been so fortunate as to obtain an introduction. 

Thus qualified, on the 8th of January, 1807, he was formally 
set apart, or ordained, according to the practice of the Church 
of Scotland, in the Scottish church in Swallow street, to the 
work of a Christian missionary among the Chinese; and, on 
the 31st, he embarked for China, via America, and landed at 
Macao, on the 4th of September, 1807. 

On Mr. Morrison’s arrival at that place, he was accommodated 
with lodging at the factory of the American agents, Messrs. Mil¬ 
ner and Bull; where he continued to prosecute the study of the 
Chinese language, and assumed the Chinese habiliments; but 


548 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


these he relinquished, on discovering that his assumption of them 
was displeasing to those whom it was his wish, by all legitimate 
means, to conciliate. The first sixteen months of his residence 
were extremely irksome, and attended by many privations and 
difficulties: he spent the day with his Chinese teacher, study¬ 
ing, eating, and sleeping in a room under ground; foregoing 
the pleasures of intercourse with his countrymen, and taking 
his meat with the Chinese, who taught him the language. 

About the close of the year 1808, he informed the Missionary 
Society that he had completed a grammar of the Chinese lan¬ 
guage ; that his dictionary of the same language was daily fill¬ 
ing up, and that his MS. of the New Testament was in part fit 
to be printed; although he deferred sending it to press until he 
should be more deeply versed in the language, in order that 
what should be done might not be hasty and imperfect. 

On the 20tli of February, 1809, he married Miss Mary 
Morton, a young lady of eighteen, the daughter of Mr. John 
Morton, a gentleman of worth and respectability, still living, a 
native of Dublin, who became surgeon-in-chief to the Royal 
Irish Artillery. After the union, he went out in the king’s ser¬ 
vice to Ceylon, where he remained about seven years, and on 
his return to England, touched with his family at China. Mrs. 
Morrison’s mother, Rebecca Ingram, was born at Limerick, 
where she was married to Mr. Morton. They had six sons and 
six daughters. One of the former is the Rev. William Morton, 
of Bishop’s college, Bengal, who is distinguished by his skill in 
the oriental tongues; Mary, the youngest daughter, was born 
October 24,1791, and accompanied her parents to Ceylon. The 
memoir of this lady, from the pen of Dr. Morrison, and the 
letters written by her to her husband, when he was called by his 
public and literary occupations from Macao to Canton every 
season, exhibit her in a most amiable light, as a woman, a wife, 
and a mother. Her constitution was originally good ; and al¬ 
though on the passage from Madras to Penang, her slight frame 
suffered greatly from the effects of sea-sickness, she had recov¬ 
ered on their arrival in China. Her temperament, however, 
soon became nervous; and during the ten years of her married 
life, she seems to have endured severe trials, and sometimes ex¬ 
treme anguish, from this cause, which once, in 1811, threatened 
her life. In one of her letters she describes her disorder as some- 


ROBERT MORRISON. 


549 


times reaching such a. height as to be almost insupportable. In an¬ 
other, she says, “With naturally good talents, and, when reason 
has the sway, a tolerably enlarged mind, yet from nervous 
weakness, I am one of the most pitiable, helpless creatures on 
earth.” Of the talents possessed by this lady, her letters afford 
decided proofs. A spirit of piety and resignation, a tone of 
warm benevolence and philanthropy, a strong affection for her 
husband and her children, are the predominant characteristics 
of these very pleasing epistles; but they likewise evince quali¬ 
ties of the mind, as well as of the heart, confirming the remark 
of her husband, that she possessed an acute intellect, improved 
by much reading. In the unavoidable privations of her hus¬ 
band’s society, she found resources in books, principally history 
and theology, and she made an attempt, more then once, to ac¬ 
quire the Chinese language, but found this effort to be beyond 
her strength. Her religious sentiments were evangelical, though 
not of an exclusive cast. In one of her letters to her husband, 
she observes, “lama Christian on the broad scale, and feel 
good-will towards all Christians of whatever sect. I think no 
one can lay to our charge any party-spirit: we have never 
shown it in our conduct, because we did not feel it.” 

On the day after his marriage, he received information that 
the East India Company 5 ^ supercargoes, to whom he had ren¬ 
dered some assistance in translating their Chinese correspond¬ 
ence, had resolved to give him an appointment as their secretary 
and interpreter. He appears to have been considered, at that 
early period, as the most expert Chinese scholar in the factories. 
The correspondence of the supercargoes with the Chinese had 
previously been conducted in a very circuitous manner, and often 
with great difficulty, by the intervention of Portuguese padres, 
of the college of St. Joseph, who first rendered the several 
papers, of which Chinese versions were required, into Latin, 
and then, with the aid of their native assistants, into Chinese. 

Mr. Morrison, as appears by his published correspondence 
with the missionary society, had in view, when he accepted a 
civil employment under the East India Company, and in perfect 
consistency with the obligations of the new office he had under¬ 
taken, to further the object of his mission with greater effect, 
and probably with less expense to the Society, than must neces¬ 
sarily have attended it, had he not availed himself of the 


550 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


improved means and powerful aid which such an appointment 
could not but afford him. He had sufficiently acquainted him¬ 
self with the peculiar character of the people for whose moral 
and spiritual advantage he had been sent to China; and knew, 
and stated in his reports, that the Chinese were not accessible 
by ordinary means; that the country was, in fact, closed against 
itinerant foreigners; that “preaching the gospel,” in the usual 
sense of the phrase, was a thing utterly impossible in China, 
and would probably ever continue so; but that the Chinese pos¬ 
sessed a literary character superior to that of any other nation 
in the world, and that the press might be made a powerful 
agent, and probably would be found to be the only efficient in¬ 
strument, whereby the strongholds of Paganism in China might 
be successfully assailed. Accordingly, in the year 1812, he 
commenced operations with this valuable auxiliary, and printed, 
in Canton, in the Chinese manner, from wooden blocks, an edi¬ 
tion of the Acts of the Apostles, in Chinese. 

In the same year he forwarded his grammar of the Chinese 
language, (which he completed on the 2d of April,) through the 
committee of supercargoes, to Lord Minto, the Governor-Gene¬ 
ral of India, in order to its being printed at the Calcutta press; 
but the obstacles to the accomplishment of such a design appear 
to have been so great, that the work did not make its appear¬ 
ance till the year 1815, when it issued from the Serampore 
Mission press, having been printed there at the East India 
Company’s sole expense, from types specially prepared for it in 
England. 

In 1812, (February 29th,) his father died. To the care and 
comfort of his aged parent both Mr. and Mrs. Morrison appear 
to have been anxious to contribute out of their slender means. 
The following extract is from a letter from Mrs. Morrison to 
her husband, in December, 1811:—“ My first wish is to assist 
our aged father, (Mr. James Morrison ;) that certainly is now 
our duty. If this is not compatible with decorating our house, 
I would most certainly deny myself, to enable us to send yearly 
fifty pounds to our father. Do not delay a moment, dear Robert, 
I request you, in fulfilling both our wishes, for I am sure it is 
as much yours as mine.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Morrison, at this period, (1811 and 1812,) ap¬ 
pear to have experienced some of those slights, which their com- 


ROBERT MORRISON. 


551 


paratively humble station, and perhaps the office of a mission¬ 
ary, invited from the vain and the arrogant. “ These slights 
and unpolitenesses,” Mrs. Morrison observes, in one of her let¬ 
ters, « should he indifferent to us; they will not add to, nor 
take from, our happiness. Yet one cannot help being hurt at 
the marked inattentions to which I am frequently exposed ; I 
will endeavour to be indifferent to them.”—“I believe the 
Chinese doctrine of bearing insults is the wisest plan to follow. 
They reason very simply, and very well. It is certainly the 
person who causelessly insults us, that ought to be ashamed, 
and not ourselves for bearing patiently with him. As Christians, 
also, we have a much higher motive for being humble and 
peaceable.” 

In 1813, Mr. Morrison completed an edition in Chinese of 
the whole of the New Testament,* of which he forwarded a 
few copies to Europe as presents to his friends ; and particularly 
to the Bible Society, the London Missionary Society, and the 
Academy at Hoxton. Large impressions of this Testament 
have since been printed; they bear date in the years 1815, 
1819, 1822, and 1827, and were extensively circulated in China. 

He at the same time wrote and printed a Catechism in Chi¬ 
nese, with a tract on the “ Doctrines of Christianity,” of which 
15,000 copies were printed and circulated. 

In the early part of 1814, it would appear he had some 
thoughts of giving up his situation in China, and going to Java 
or Malacca. In April of that year, Mr. John Robert Morrison, 
who became Chinese secretary to the superintendents at Can¬ 
ton, was born. A daughter had been born the year before, and 
a son in 1811, who died an infant. 

In the year 1815, it was represented to the Court of Direct¬ 
ors that he was prosecuting his translation of the Scriptures, in 
the face (as it was erroneously conceived) of an edict of the 
Emperor of China, which prohibited the Chinese from consulting 
certain Christian books, prepared and published by the Jesuits. 
The court, therefore, ordered that his services to the factory 
should be dispensed with. On this occasion, Dr. Morrison 
addressed a letter to the supercargoes, in which he vindicated 
his conduct, by reminding them that, in accepting office, he had 

* The correspondence of Mrs. Morrison refers to the severe affliction of her. 
husband, his headaches, &c. occasioned by “too long writing.” 




552 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


not consented to relinquish his important missionary trust; and, 
at the same time submitting the impropriety of identifying his 
peaceful and legitimate pursuits with those of the Jesuits. It 
was, irf fact, he observed, the temporal ascendancy asserted by 
the Pope, and claimed for him by the Jesuits, which had excited 
the jealousy of the acute Chinese, and occasioned the imperial 
edict, and not the quiet, unobtrusive dissemination of theological 
writings, among a highly literary people. These explanations 
were considered satisfactory, and his services were retained. 

In 1815, also, he commenced the publication of his “ Diction¬ 
ary of the Chinese Language.” The first number was printed 
on the 29th of December, 1815. This work was printed at a 
press established expressly for that purpose at Macao. It con¬ 
sists of three parts:—the first part containing the Chinese and 
English, arranged according to the radicals, fills three quarto 
volumes of about 900 pages each, bearing the dates 1815, 1822, 
and 1823. It was by this systematical arrangement of the ele¬ 
ments of the Chinese language, that Morrison surmounted a 
difficulty, which had till then been found insuperable by Euro¬ 
peans, in their endeavours to understand the speech and writings 
of the natives of this immense empire.* In the advertisement, 
dated April 9, 1822, which appeared at the close of the third 
volume, the author modestly pleaded his numerous engagements, 
as an apology for the time which had been spent in the prepa¬ 
ration of this dictionary. The second part, which fills two 
volumes, published in the years 1819 and 1820, contains the 
Chinese and English, arranged alphabetically; the third part, 
published in the year 1822, consists of English words with 
Chinese meanings. The dictionary was completed on the 15th 
of April, 1822. 

Dr. Morrison’s Chinese Dictionary is unquestionably the im¬ 
perishable monument of his literary fame: it occupied, from its 
commencement to its completion, thirteen years of the prime of 
his laborious life. He dedicated it to the Court of Directors 
of the East India Company, by whose orders the Company’s funds 
were munificently charged with the entire expense of its publica¬ 
tion, amounting to about 12,000Z. The court, also, after having 
directed the distribution of a hundred copies, generously pre- 


* The Chinese Dictionaries are mostly arranged in this manner. 



ROBERT MORRISON. 


553 


sented the author with the remainder of the impression, for cir¬ 
culation among his friends, or for sale on his own account. 

After he had completed his translation of the New Testa¬ 
ment in 1813, he obtained the co-operation of the Rev. Mr. 
Milne, who had been sent to Malacca by the London Missionary 
Society, in charge of their missionary establishment at that 
place. With Mr. Milne, whose life fell a sacrifice to the climate 
in the year 1822, the subject of this memoir maintained a con¬ 
stant and cordial friendship, and with his assistance he completed 
a Chinese version of the books of the Old Testament, on the 
25th of November, 1819. The portion of this work which was 
translated by Dr. Milne, consists of the book of Deuteronomy, 
and later historical books, and the book of Job. The transla¬ 
tion and publication of the whole of the Old and New Testa¬ 
ments, in nineteen volumes octavo, was completed in the year 
1819. Leang-a-fa, a native Chinese, who had been converted 
to the Christian faith by Dr. Milne, assisted in passing the work 
through the press. Other editions of this inestimable work 
have been printed since the year 1819, at the expense of the 
British and Foreign Bible Society; and Dr. Morrison meditated, 
and, indeed, had undertaken, previous to his decease, a new and 
revised edition of the sacred Scriptures in Chinese, under the 
patronage of the Bible Society. 

In 1817, he published a “View of China for Philological 
Purposes,” in one volume quarto, containing a sketch of Chinese 
chronology, geography, government, religion, and customs, de¬ 
signed for the use of persons who study the Chinese language. 
This volume contains an outline of the Chinese dynasties, with 
many historical facts, of which more recent writers on China 
have not failed abundantly to avail themselves. 

In the same year, his extensive acquaintance with the lan¬ 
guage and literature of China recommended him as the fittest 
person to accompany Lord Amherst on his embassy to Pekin. 
Mr. Morrison, accordingly, accompanied his lordship as his 
Chinese interpreter; and, among the incidents of that eventful 
enterprise, it may be worthy of record, that it was to him his 
lordship was indebted for the knowledge of the fact, that the 
presents to his celestial majesty were forwarded on the great 
canal, in barges, under flags which imported that they were 
tribute from the King of England to the Emperor of China. 

70 3 A 


554 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


Mr. Morrison wrote a memoir of Lord Amherst’s embassy, 
which was afterwards published. 

On the 24th of December, 1817, the Senatus Academicus of 
the University of Glasgow unanimously conferred upon him the 
degree of doctor of divinity, in token of their approbation of 
his philological labours. 

In 1818, Dr. Morrison executed a project which he had long had 
in contemplation—the establishment of an Anglo-Chinese col¬ 
lege at Malacca, in which the languages and literature of the two 
countries should be interchangeably communicated, chiefly with 
a view to the final object of his mission, the introduction of the 
Christian religion into China. The London Missionary Society 
had previously obtained a grant of ground for the erection of a 
mission-house; and on a part of this ground, with some addi¬ 
tional land which he obtained by purchase, he caused his college 
to be erected. Towards the foundation of this college he gave 
1000?. with an endowment of 100?. per annum, for five years; 
and obtained the further requisite pecuniary aid from his friends 
in Europe and Asia. The foundation stone was laid on the 11th 
of November, 1818, by Lieutenant-Colonel William Farquahar, 
with the concurrence of the Dutch authorities, to whom the 
settlement was then on the eve of being restored. Dr. Mor¬ 
rison made other pecuniary grants towards the support of this 
institution, and was, till his death, its most powerful and efficient 
patron, in obtaining the means of its support by voluntary con¬ 
tribution. He also drew up, for the better management of the 
college, a code of laws, by which it continues to be regulated, 
on Christian principles. In the year 1825, it contained twenty 
Chinese students; and according to the latest report, its utility 
and prosperity are unabated. In 1827, Mr. Fullerton, the Go¬ 
vernor of Prince of Wales Island, recorded a minute, in which 
he took a view of the history of the college; and, after recom¬ 
mending the East India Company to afford it pecuniary aid, in 
the expectation that it would, as indeed it had, become the de¬ 
pository of the literature of the surrounding nations, and that 
the company’s servants might avail themselves of it as a means 
of qualifying themselves for their respective official stations, he 
added, “ I do not contemplate any interference by the officers 
of government in the direct management of the institution, 
being perfectly satisfied that it is now in better hands.” 


ROBERT MORRISON. 


555 


Dr. Morrison visited this college in the year 1822; and, 
during his stay at Malacca, entered into arrangements with the 
view of forming a new institution at Singapore, in connection 
with the college at Malacca, but without disturbing the original 
plan of that establishment. The languages which it was de¬ 
signed that the Singapore institution should disseminate, are 
the Chinese, Malayan, Siamese, Buggese, Arabic, and Balinese.' 
The project was discussed and adopted at a public meeting, held 
at Singapore, on the 1st of April, 1823, at which Sir Stamford 
Raffles, presided; who appropriated for this establishment one 
hundred acres of waste land, the property of the government, 
and assigned to Dr. Morrison fifty acres, on which to erect a 
private residence for himself, whenever he should reside tempo¬ 
rarily at Singapore. The erection of this college, towards 
which Dr. Morrison obtained private subscriptions to a consi¬ 
derable amount, and himself gave 1000?., commenced on an ex¬ 
tensive scale, on the 4th of August, 1823, Sir Stamford Raffles 
laying the first stone. The return to Europe of that distin¬ 
guished statesman shortly afterwards, and the consequent change 
in the government of Singapore, co-operating with other causes, 
appears to have prevented the completion of this munificent 
design. 

In 1821, Dr. Morrison lost his amiable, affectionate, and be¬ 
loved wife. We quote his own words : “ On Saturday evening, 
June 9, expecting to be confined, she put away all her work, 
books, &c. in daily use, and did not finish the reading of her 
usual chapter and prayer till about eleven o’clock at night. 
Next morning she rose and dressed, came out to breakfast and 
family prayer, but was unwell. The disease was cholera mor¬ 
bus; and that evening, being Sunday, June 10, 1821, stretched 
on a couch, with Mrs. Livingstone, the doctor, and Robert by 
her side, after one day’s painful suffering, she ceased to breathe. 
She was interred in the British factory’s burial-ground in 
Macao.” 

Dr. Morrison, having previously returned from Malacca to 
Canton, embarked at Macao in December, 1823, in the Water¬ 
loo, Captain Alsager, with the view of revisiting his native 
country, whither his two children, a son and daughter, had pre¬ 
ceded him. In March, 1824, he arrived in England, and was 
received with marked attention in the several religious, literary, 


556 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


and scientific circles in England and Scotland, in which lie made 
his appearance; and not less so in the French metropolis, where 
he spent part of the summer of 1825. 

He had also the honour, during his residence in England, to 
be enrolled a member of the Royal Society; and was presented, 
as one of the most eminent Chinese scholars of the age, by the 
President of the Board of Control, to the king, at his levee, to 
whom he submitted a complete copy of the sacred Scriptures 
in the Chinese language, together with some other productions 
of the Chinese press. He brought with him to England his 
Chinese library, consisting of several thousand volumes in every 
department of Chinese literature. It was his intention and 
chief object, in bringing this library to Europe, to promote, by 
means of it, the study of the Chinese language. For this pur¬ 
pose he projected, and, with the aid of friends in England, 
founded an institution in Bartlett’s Buildings, Holborn, which 
he called the Language Institution. The plan of this establish¬ 
ment was simple and unexpensive; and it was based on the 
most catholic principles, it being the design of the projector 
that it should exist for an object, so simple and easily defined, 
the study of language, as to entitle it to the support of persons 
of all religious denominations, who were favourable to missions 
to the heathen. It was, of course, open to all missionaries,— 
both to returned missionaries, as instructors of their younger 
brethren, and to those younger brethren, who wished to qualify 
themselves for future labours, by receiving the counsels and in¬ 
structions of those who had preceded them. Thus constituted, 
it prospered under his personal superintendence, and several 
missionaries, who are now labouring in the East, owe to it their 
earliest acquaintance with, and advances in, the languages in 
which they communicate with the natives of the countries where 
they labour; but after it had ceased to enjoy his personal pre¬ 
sence and direction, it declined, and in about two years from 
that date was discontinued; a fact which called forth, on his 
part, expressions of the sincerest regret. 

He also, during his residence in England, published a thin 
quarto volume entitled “The Chinese Miscellany,” consisting 
of original extracts from Chinese authors, in the native charac¬ 
ter; with translations and philological remarks. In the publi¬ 
cation of this work, he had recourse to lithography,—an art 


ROBERT MORRISON. 


557 


which he subsequently described as peculiarly well adapted to 
the multiplication of copies of pages written in the Chinese 
character, and which for that reason he has introduced into 
China. 

In 1824, Doctor Morrison married Miss Armstrong of Liv¬ 
erpool, and in 1826, he returned to China, under the auspices 
of the Court of Directors of the East India Company; accom¬ 
panied by his wife, an infant son, the fruit of their union, and 
his two elder children. He had four children born at Macao, 
after his return to China, making altogether seven children. 

The services of Dr. Morrison to the East India Company are 
admitted to have been, on some occasions, of immense value. 
He was more than once called into council at Canton, on very 
trying occasions, and whenever his advice was followed, it proved 
beneficial to the company’s interests. In the Lintin affair, in 
1821, he was the only person at the factory capable of opposing 
argument to the claims of the Chinese, and he did so with suc¬ 
cess. In public transactions, as in private, he was the Christian; 
effecting the greatest objects by conciliation; and there is good 
reason to believe, that had his advice been followed on some 
occasions, when it was disregarded, considerable inconvenience 
and loss of property would have been avoided. There are now 
but few among the company’s servants, formerly on the Canton 
establishment, who were not indebted to him for their acquaint¬ 
ance with the language of China : indeed, this particular branch 
of his duty, (teaching the junior servants the language,) is un¬ 
derstood to have been that for which the Court of Directors 
consented, temporarily, to his drawing those allowances from 
the company’s treasury, which he continued to receive, and lat¬ 
terly under a more formal recognition on the part of the court, 
till within a few days of his decease. 

Talents so commanding, and success in literary enterprise so 
distinguishing, as were possessed by Dr. Morrison, could not 
fail of encountering the hostility of rivals in the field of science. 
Even in England, the productions of his mind and pen often 
received much less than justice from one portion of the period¬ 
ical press, and on the continent of Europe they were exposed 
to a formal rivalry, which was occasionally productive of ludi¬ 
crous effects. One of these was an application made to an 
English gentleman, in habitual intercourse with the doctor, and 

3 a 2 


558 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


who had received from him instruction in Chinese, requesting 
that, in return for certain literary gratifications, he would eulo¬ 
gize and exalt an eminent continental professor of Chinese, and 
decry Morrison. The answer given to this request, from which 
the following is an extract, is as creditable to the writer as it is 
to the character he undertook to vindicate. “I cannot help 
regretting that you should indulge in such hostility to Dr. Mor- 
rision, concerning whom I must declare, (and I could not, with¬ 
out the greatest baseness, do otherwise,) that I agree with Sir 
George Staunton in considering him as < confessedly the first 
Chinese scholar in Europe.’ It is notorious in this country, 
(England,) that he has for years conducted, on the part of the 
East India Company, a very extensive correspondence with the 
Chinese, in the written character; that he writes the language 
of China with the ease and rapidity of a native, and that the 
natives themselves have long since given him the title of Le 
Docline Ma. This testimony is decisive; and the position 
which it gives him is such, that he may regard all European 
squabbles regarding his Chinese knowledge as mere Batracho- 
myamachia , (Battle of Frogs and Mice.) What Mr. Majori- 
banks stated, in relation to a Japanese version of the dictionary, 
is perfectly correct. The Japanese were so well pleased with 
the alphabetical arrangement of the second part, that they have 
availed themselves of Dutch interpretations, and convert it into 
their own vernacular language.” 

The circumstance- above referred to occurred in 1828, when 
the head Japanese translator, at Nangasaki, was employed in 
translating Morrison’s dictionary into Japanese, from a copy 
which had been presented to him by the Dutch naturalist, M. 
Burger. 

It is well known in the Indian circles, that he was the first 
European who prepared documents in the Chinese language, 
which the Chinese authorities would consent to receive, and that 
the first document so prepared by him and presented, was sup¬ 
posed to have been the production of a learned Chinese; and 
means were employed to discover its author, in order to visit 
upon him the vengeance of the Chinese law, for an act, regard¬ 
ed in China as an act of treason, the exertion of such talents 
in the service of foreigners. It was this inquiry which gave 
publicity to the circumstance, and established Morrison’s cha- 


ROBERT MORRISON. 


559 


racter as a Chinese scholar. But it is unnecessary to multiply 
facts, in order to establish the just literary claims of this 
eminent and amiable individual. The following, however, 
so strikingly exhibits the manliness and benevolence of his 
character, that it would be an act of injustice to his memory 
to omit it. 

In 1829, a party of Chinese navigators, among whom was one 
Teal-Kung-Chaou, were navigating a vessel near the coast, with 
fourteen passengers and property on board; when the majority 
of the crew rose, and, for the sake of the property, murdered 
the passengers, with the exception of one individual, who es¬ 
caped to land. Teal-Kung-Chaou had been no party to the 
crime, he having endeavoured to prevent its perpetration; but, 
upon the survivor’s making known the transaction to the magis¬ 
trates on shore, the whole of the crew, including Teal-Kung- 
Chaou, w T ere arrested and convicted, on evidence which was 
afterwards found to be insufficient by the law of China. How¬ 
ever, identification was all that remained to be done, after con¬ 
viction, previous to execution. Accordingly, the court was 
solemnly opened for the purpose of identification, and foreigners 
of distinction were permitted to be present; the prisoners were 
then called in, and produced in cages, and were all identified 
by the survivor of the murdered passengers, as participes crimi- 
nis in the transaction, except Teal-Kung-Chaou, who, when he 
stepped out of his cage, was seized by the surviving passenger, 
and thanked for his service in having, amid the slaughter of his 
associates, saved his life. Yet no attempt was made by the 
Chinese present to obtain a reversal of the sentence of this 
man. Leang-a-fa, who had accompanied Morrison, expressed 
a desire to attempt it; but he could not command sufficient at¬ 
tention. Perceiving this, Dr. Morrison himself stepped forward, 
and eloquently advocated the poor man’s cause, in Chinese, 
with such ample reference to Chinese legal authorities, as pro¬ 
cured the release of Teal-Kung-Chaou, and obtained for the 
doctor very many high compliments from the chief judge, 
and the applause of the whole court. According to Chinese 
usage, the redeemed captive presented a formal letter of ac¬ 
knowledgments to his deliverer, at whose feet he could not be 
prevented from performing the accustomed homage of “bump¬ 
ing head.” 


560 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


On the arrival of Lord Napier at Macao, with the king’s com¬ 
mission, constituting the new arrangement for the administration 
of the British affairs in China, he found Dr. Morrison there; 
and, in pursuance of instructions received from the British go¬ 
vernment, appointed him Chinese secretary and interpreter to 
the commission. Dr. Morrison was then, and had been for 
some time, in declining health; he, nevertheless, consented to 
accompany his lordship, on his resolving to proceed immediate¬ 
ly to Canton, and was with him, in an open boat and in a storm 
of rain, on the Canton river, in the night between the 24th 
and 25th of July, 1884. The party did not arrive at Can¬ 
ton till the morning of the 25th. From that time, disease 
made rapid advances, and he expired in the fifty-third year 
of his age, on the evening of the first of August, in the arms 
of his eldest son, John Robert Morrison. This gentleman 
has been appointed his father’s successor in the duties of his 
offices. 

On the following day, the second of August, Dr. Morrison’s 
remains were carried by water to Macao. They were followed 
from his residence, No. 6, in the Danish Hong, to the river-side, 
by Lord Napier, and all the Europeans, Americans, and Asiatic 
British subjects then in Canton. On the fifth of the same 
month, they were deposited with those of his first wife and one 
of his children, in the private Protestant burial-ground at Ma¬ 
cao. He was attended to his tomb by about forty of the most 
respectable inhabitants of that island ; the Rev. E. Stevens, 
the seaman’s chaplain in the port of Canton, officiating on the 
occasion. 

The magnitude of the loss which the literary world sus¬ 
tained by the removal of this distinguished individual was, per¬ 
haps, most correctly estimated nearer to the scene of his active, 
laborious, and useful life. There it was appreciated and ex¬ 
pressed, not in strains of unmerited eulogy, but in acknow¬ 
ledgments as unanswerable as they were emphatic. “ Countless 
millions of the human race,” it has been observed, “ may have 
to rejoice in the effects of his toils: and hereafter, when the 
attainment of the Chinese language shall have become an easy 
task, and a succession of Chinese scholars shall have arisen to 
profess it, it will still be to him that they are indebted for the 
means whereby they have acquired it: and long, very long, 


ROBERT MORRISON. 


561 


will it be before there shall be found among them one whose 
knowledge of China and Chinese literature shall be as extensive 
and solid as his—one whose mind shall have been as thorough¬ 
ly saturated with Chinese loreto which might have been 
added, ‘‘and one whose unfeigned piety and domestic and so¬ 
cial virtues were as conspicuous and indisputable as were those 
of the late estimable and lamented Dr. Robert Morrison.” 

From his first appearance in China he seems to have availed 
himself of that most important means of acquainting the 
heathen with one of the elementary principles of Divine reve¬ 
lation—the observance of the Sabbath-day. As a servant of 
the company, he had only lodgings at Canton, where he spent 
the portion of the year devoted to trade, and a house at Ma¬ 
cao, where he resided generally for the larger portion of the 
year: both these residences were used by him as chapels, in 
which he performed religious worship, and preached usually 
four times in the day; twice in English, to such of his country¬ 
men as would attend, and twice in Chinese, to his Chinese 
servants and others. The effect of his Chinese sermons appears 
to have been the conversion of a few natives of the empire to 
Christianity, who have been at different periods baptized by 
him into the Christian faith, and, inclusive of Leang-a-fa, five 
of them have been destined to the missionary service. He also 
kept a school for Chinese children in his house at Macao, em¬ 
ploying Chinese preceptors, and giving them presents to induce 
them to send their children. 

In 1832, he lent his powerful aid to the objects of the Tem¬ 
perance Society, and patronised a tea and coffee shop in Canton, 
to which the British sailors in the port were, by public adver¬ 
tisement, invited to resort, in preference to those houses where 
ardent spirits were sold, and used much to the prejudice of the 
morals of those who partook of them. 

In the same year he opened the floating chapel at Macao, 
which had been fitted up chiefly by the exertions of the Ameri¬ 
cans who frequented the port. 

There is a portrait of Dr. Morrison, from a painting made 
by Chinnery, at the request and expense of the company’s ser¬ 
vants and others at the factory, which gives a very correct rep¬ 
resentation of his person. His face was remarkable for a 
71 


562 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


smiling aspect, a quick, full eye, and the abundance of dark- 
coloured hair with which it was surrounded. 

His engagements through life had been such as to induce a 
habit of economizing time, and to prevent much of that inter¬ 
course with society which he would otherwise have enjoyed. 
When in company, his address was mild and gentlemanly, but 
his desire that all his intercourse should tend to mental impro ve¬ 
ment, manifested itself in an utter disinclination to join in fri¬ 
volities ; and when conversation appeared to take that turn, he 
usually availed himself of the earliest opportunity of withdraw¬ 
ing from it. From his own family, and among his children, he 
derived the greatest delight; with them he was playful as a 
child, and embraced every occasion to instruct and to enlarge 
the sphere of their information. They were his companions 
and his correspondents, even at the very earliest age at which 
they were capable of becoming so, and their attachment to him 
was proportionably ardent.* 


* For the above memoir we are indebted to the “Annual Biography.” 



GEORGE LORD LYTTELTON. 


GEORGE LORD LYTTELTON. 



EORGE, the eldest son of Sir Thomas Lyttel¬ 
ton, of Hagley, in Worcestershire, was born 
in 1709. He received his education at Eton, 
where his early proficiency attracted notice, 
and his exercises were recommended as models. 
On leaving Eton, he was placed at Christ 
Church, Oxford. While at college, he first soli¬ 
cited public attention by a poem on the battle 
of Blenheim. He was, indeed, a precocious 
writer, both in prose and verse. His “ Persian 
Letters,” as well as his “ Progress of Love,” were 
composed in early youth, and they both exhibit the 
characteristics of juvenility; the “Persian Letters,” 
however, are ingenious and amusing; although, in 
after-life, he deemed them altogether unworthy of his 
name, and was opposed to their being inserted in any 
collections of his works. 

Lyttleton did not long remain at the university. In 1728, 
he commenced his travels, and made the usual tour of France 
and Italy. On his return, in 1730, he entered the House of 
Commons as member for Oakhampton; and, although his father 
was a lord of the admiralty, evinced the most uncompromising 
hostility to the minister, Sir Robert Walpole. Frederick, Prince 
of Wales, being, in 1737, driven from the palace of his father, 
George the Second, kept a kind of rival court, and gave a warm 
reception to the opponents of the government. Lyttelton was 
appointed his secretary, and he appears to have made a judicious 
and liberal use of his influence. Through his recommendation, 
Mallet was appointed under-secretary, and Thomson obtained 
a pension of X100 a year from his royal highness. Pope classed 
him among the patriots of the day; and, in return, Lyttel¬ 
ton, on being upbraided by Fox for his intimacy with Pope, 


564 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


whom Fox designated as an unjust and malignant libeller, Lyt¬ 
telton replied, that he felt himself honoured in being received 
into the friendship of so great a poet. 

To the enjoyments derivable from fame and influence, Lyttel¬ 
ton now added those of the most perfect connubial felicity. In 
1741, he married Miss Lucy Fortescue, and became the father 
of a son and two daughters. On her death, in child-bed, about 
five years afterwards, he wrote a monody, which is, perhaps, 
the best of his poetical productions. With his second wife, the 
daughter of Sir Robert Rich, to whom he was united in 1749, 
Lyttelton passed a few years in domestic strife, and a separation 
between them eventually took place by mutual consent. 

On Walpole’s defeat, Lyttelton was appointed a lord of the 
treasury; the duties of office, however, by no means absorbed 
his attention. It appears that he had in his youth entertained 
doubts of the truth of Christianity; but having now turned his 
more matured intellect and information to the study of that 
important subject, the result was, that he became a firm believer, 
and, in 1747, gave the world his excellent “ Observations on 
the Conversion of St. Paul.” This treatise attracted immediate 
attention and applause; but, probably, the praise which gave 
its author the highest satisfaction, was conveyed in the follow¬ 
ing letter from his father:—“ I have read your religious treatise 
with infinite pleasure and satisfaction. The style is fine and 
clear; the arguments close, cogent, and irresistible. May the 
King of kings, whose glorious cause you have so well defended, 
reward your pious labours; and grant that I may be found Tvor- 
thy, through the merits of Jesus Christ, to be an eye-witness 
of that happiness which I do not doubt he will bountifully bestow 
upon you! In the mean time, I shall never cease glorifying 
God for having endowed you with such useful talents, and giving 
me so good a son.” 

On the death of his father, in 1751, Lyttelton succeeded to 
the baronetcy and an ample estate. The house and park, with 
which he adorned his patrimony, raised him a great reputation 
for elegant taste and judicious munificence. His improvements 
at Hagley are commemorated by Thomson in the “ Seasons.” 

Lyttelton gradually rose to higher distinctions in the state. 
In 1754, he was made cofferer and privy-councillor; and, in 
the following year, obtained the important office of Chancellor 


GEORGE LORD LYTTELTON. 


565 


of the Exchequer, which, however, he resigned within a year, 
and, on the dissolution of the ministry, retired entirely from 
public employment, with the honourable reward of a peerage for 
his services. 

His “ Dialogues of the Dead,” which are, perhaps, better 
known at the present day than any of his other productions, were 
published in 1780. Though certainly not profound, they are 
lively, judicious, and evidently the production of a man anxious 
to give every support in his power to virtue and refined senti¬ 
ments. His “ History of Henry the Second,” a work of great 
labour, research, and considerable merit, was Lyttelton’s last 
contribution to literature, and occupied a large portion of his 
declining years. His anxiety with regard to the correctness 
of this production, appears to have been remarkable, even among 
the most curious instances of fastidious authorship. The whole 
work was printed twice over; many parts of it were passed 
three times, and some sheets four or five times, through the 
press. Three volumes of the History appeared in 1764, a 
second edition of them in 1767, a third in 1768, and the con¬ 
clusion was published in 1771. 

Lyttelton’s life was now drawing to a close. His appearance 
never betokened strength of constitution ; he had a slender 
frame and a meagre face: he lived, however, until the age of 
sixty-four. Of the piety and resignation that cheered his last 
moments, an instructive account has been given by his physician. 
After detailing the progress of the patient’s disease, the writer 
says, “ On Sunday, about eleven in the forenoon, his lordship 
sent for me, and said he felt a great hurry, and wished to have 
a little conversation with me in order to divert it. He then 
proceeded to open the fountain of that heart from which goodness 
had so long flowed as from a copious spring. ‘Doctor,’ said 
he, ‘ you shall be my confessor. When I first set out in the 
world, I had friends who endeavoured to shake my belief in the 
Christian religion. I saw difficulties which staggered me, but I 
kept my mind open to conviction. The evidences and doctrines 
of Christianity, studied with attention, made me a most firm and 
persuaded believer of the Christian religion. I have made it 
the rule of my life, and it is the ground of my future hopes. I 
have erred and sinned, but have repented, and never indulged 
any vicious habit. In politics and public life, I have made 


566 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


public good the rule of my conduct. I never gave counsels 
which I did not at the time think the best. I have seen that I 
was sometimes in the wrong, but I did not err designedly. I 
have endeavoured, in private life, to do all the good in my power; 
and never for a moment could indulge malicious or unjust de¬ 
signs upon any person whatever.’ ” He died on the 22d of 
August, 1773, and was buried at Hagley. 

Although certainly not eminent in the highest sense of the 
term, the talents and virtues of Lyttelton entitle him to a place 
among the worthies of his era. Consistent in public conduct, 
benevolent in disposition, and elegant as a writer, he presents 
a character which the mind contemplates with pleasure, though 
not with high admiration. It is probable, however, that, had 
his powers been exclusively confined to literature, they were 
capable, with industrious cultivation, of raising him to a height 
in the scale of merit, which, at present, he cannot be said to 
have attained. 

Lord Lyttelton’s son and successor, a man of some talent, 
but profligate manners, asserted, shortly before his death, that 
an apparition had not only warned him of his approaching 
decease, but had indicated the precise time when it would take 
place. It is said that he expired within a few minutes of the 
hour which he had mentioned as having been indicated by his 
unearthly visitant; and, for a considerable period, this was con¬ 
sidered the best authenticated modern ghost-story extant. But 
it has lately been stated, that Lord Lyttelton having resolved 
to take poison, there was no miracle in the tolerably accurate 
fulfilment of the prediction he had promulgated. “It was no 
doubt singular,” says Sir Walter Scott, in one of his amusing 
Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft, « that a man who medi¬ 
tated his exit from the world, should have chosen to play such 
a trick upon his friends; but it is still more credible, that a 
whimsical man should do so wild a thing, than that a messenger 
should be sent from the dead to tell a libertine at what precise 
hour he should expire.” 


BEILBY PORTEUS. 


567 


BEILBY PORTEUS. 



HIS eminent English prelate was born at 
York in 1731. He passed several years at a 
small school in his native city, and when he 
was thirteen years old he was removed to a 
school at Ripon. From this plfcce he went 
at an earlier age than usual to Cambridge, 
^ where he was admitted a sizar of Christ’s Col¬ 


lege. His personal worth, united with his su¬ 
perior attainments, both classical and mathe¬ 
matical, soon procured him a fellowship in his 
College, and by the active exertions of his friends 
he was made esquire-beadle of the University. This 
office he did not long retain, hut he chose rather to 
give his undivided attention to private pupils. In 
1757, at the age of twenty-six, he was ordained deacon, 
and soon after priest. 

He first became known as a writer by obtaining Seaton’s 
prize for the best English poem on a sacred subject. On this 
occasion the subject was “ Death,” and the production of Mr. 
Porteus was universally deemed one of great merit. In 1762, 
he was made chaplain to Archbishop Seeker. His first pre¬ 
ferments were two small livings in Kent, which he soon resigned, 
and took the rectory of Hunton in the same county. He was 
next appointed prebendary of Peterborough, and not long after¬ 
wards, in 1767, he became rector of Lambeth. In the same 
year he took the degree of D. D. at Cambridge, and in 1769 
was made chaplain to King George III., and master of the 
hospital of St. Cross near Winchester. 

In 1773, Dr. Porteus, with a few other clergymen, applied 
to the bishops, requesting that they would review the Liturgy 
and Articles for the purpose of making some slight alterations. 
In taking this step they proceeded in a temperate and respectful 
manner, and the answer declining to entertain the application, 



568 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


which Archbishop Cornwallis returned in his own name and in 
that of the bench in general, was marked with great kindness. 
Dr. Porteus and his friends acquiesced in the decision of the 
bishops, and thus the affair ended. 

In 1776, Dr. Porteus, without the least solicitation on his 
part, was made Bishop of Chester; and in 1787, on the death 
of Bishop Lowth, he was promoted to the diocese of London, 
over which he very ably presided till his death. In 1798, he 
began a course of lectures on St. Matthew’s Gospel, which he 
delivered at St. James’s church on the Fridays in Lent, and 
which he afterwards published. These lectures have been per¬ 
haps the nlDst popular of all his works. He died May 14, 
1808, in the seventy-eighth year of his age. Though Bishop 
Porteus cannot be called a profound scholar or divine, he was 
a man of considerable learning and ability; and he pursued 
through life a steady course of pious exertion for the benefit of 
his fellow-creatures which procured him a high reputation among 
men of all parties. His works, consisting of sermons and tracts, 
with a “Life of Archbishop Seeker,” and the poem and lectures 
already mentioned, were collected and published in 1811, in 
five vols. 8vo, with his Life, making another volume, by his 
nephew, the Bev. Robert Hodgson, now Dr. Hodgson, dean of 
Carlisle. 


HENRY MARTYN. 


569 


HENRY MARTYN. 



JARTYN, known as The Missionary , born 
1781, died 1812. The short life of this 
amiable and zealous man may thus in brief 
be delineated. His birth was obscure. He 
was the son of a person who had been a 
labourer in the mines at Gwennap in Corn¬ 
wall, but who was probably a person of talent 
and virtue, as he raised himself to the situation 
of clerk to a merchant at Truro, in which town 
Henry Martyn was born. He had his education 
in the grammar-school of Truro, and having ac¬ 
quired a considerable share of grammar learning, he 
tried for a scholarship in Corpus Christi College, 
Oxford; but failing in this, in 1797, he entered Saint 
John’s College, Cambridge. Here he pursued his 
studies with such energy, that in 1801 he came out 
senior wrangler. During this period also his mind became 
directed with more than common earnestness to the truths of 
revelation. The death of his father is thought to have affected 
him at this period of his life so deeply as to have had no small 
share in turning his thoughts into the channel in which from 
this time they continued to flow; and not less the intimacy 
which at this time began with the Rev. Charles Simeon, the 
celebrated evangelical preacher in the University of Cambridge. 
He was chosen Fellow of St. John’s, in March, 1802; but out of 
zeal in the cause of religion, he finally determined to devote 
himself to the work in which many of his countrymen had by 
that time begun to engage themselves, of propagating Chris¬ 
tianity in nations which had not received it. There had been, 
it is true, a society in England associated for the purpose of 
propagating the gospel in foreign parts, but a new impulse and 
a new energy were given to such operations by the establish- 
72 3 b 2 


570 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ment of Missionary Societies, supported by the Methodists, the 
Independent Dissenters, and by the Evangelical party in the 
church. Mr. Martyn was not content with supporting this 
object by his influence at home, but he proposed himself to the 
African and Eastern Missionary Society as a person willing to 
undertake the duties of a missionary in the East, and finally 
embarked for India in 1805. 

It now became necessary that he should make himself master 
of the languages of the countries which he was about to visit; 
and with what success he studied them is evidenced by the fact 
that he had the superintendence of the translations of the New 
Testament made under the instructions of the Missionary So¬ 
ciety, both into Persian and Hindustanee. He made also some 
progress in an Arabic translation. In his capacity of missionary 
he traversed large tracts both of India and Persia. After 
above five years’ labour in these countries, his health began to 
decline, and it soon became manifest that he would see his native 
shores no more. He did however make the attempt to return; 
but his strength wholly failing him, he was obliged to halt at 
Tokat, in Asia Minor, about 250 miles from Constantinople, 
where in a few days he died. The regrets in England which 
this event occasioned were great. Much was expected from 
him, and much would probably have been done by him in the 
cause to which he had devoted himself. As it was, he brought 
not a few both Hindus and Mohammedans to make profession 
of the Christian faith, and he caused the Scriptures to be ex¬ 
tensively dispersed among a people who had not previously 
known them. 

An interesting account of his life, compiled from various Jour¬ 
nals left by him, was published by the Rev. John Sargent, 1819. 


FELIX NEFF. 


571 


FELIX NEFF. 



ELIX NEFF was born in 1798, and brought 
up by his widowed mother in a village near 
Geneva. Like many other excellent men, he 
4 owed his first strong impressions to the effect 
produced by maternal vigilance, and to lessons 
taught by female lips.’ She laid the founda¬ 
tion, and the village pastor instructed him in 
Latin, history, geography and botany. Of the 
few books within his reach, Plutarch’s Lives, and 
some of the unobjectionable volumes of Rousseau, 
are said to have been his favourites; the former, be¬ 
cause they filled his mind with the exploits of great 
men; and the latter because they encouraged the de¬ 
light which natural scenery, whether beautiful or grand, 
excited in him. His boyish aspirations were for military 
fame or for scientific research. When it was time for 
him to enter upon some way of life in which he could earn a 
subsistence, he engaged himself to a nursery-man and florist- 
gardener : and at the age of sixteen published a little treatise 
on the culture of trees, which was much praised for arrange¬ 
ment, its accuracy, and the habit of careful observation that it 
evinced. At seventeen, however, he entered as a private into the 
military service of Geneva, and 44 exchanged the quiet and hum¬ 
ble walk of the florist’s garden for the bustle of the garrison.” 
Two years afterwards he was promoted to the rank of sergeant 
of artillery; and having obtained notice by his knowledge of 
mathematics, he made that science his study during his continu¬ 
ance in the army. That continuance was not long. But this 
second change of pursuit was occasioned by no fickleness or in¬ 
firmity of purpose. It is said that his officers were jealous of 
the influence which he obtained over his comrades; that he 
was too religious for them, and that they wished him out of the ser- 





572 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


vice;—the serious turn of his mind in fact became so marked, 
that he was advised to quit it, and prepare himself for holy 
orders. 

Accordingly he quitted the army, and placed himself under 
proper instruction, after due deliberation and frequent prayer. 
That he might the better mark, learn, and inwardly digest, the 
Scriptures, he made a concordance for himself, and filled the 
margins of several Bibles with notes. “ Some of these are still 
in possession of his friends, and are consulted as the voice of 
one who being dead yet speaketh.” His powers of acquirement 
and his aptitude for abstracted study were remarkable, and his 
conversation not less so ; it was prompt, easy, and agreeable, 
but always to the point, in short sentences, and in few words. 

He first assumed the functions of a pastor-catechist, and was 
ultimately called to the duties which he was so anxious to un¬ 
dertake, by one of those Independent congregations of England 
whose ministers are received in the Protestant churches of 
France. He was ordained in London, in 1823, and, within six 
months after, was appointed Pastor of the department of the 
High Alps. In order to visit his various flocks, the pastor had 
to travel from his fixed residence, twelve miles in a western di¬ 
rection, sixty in an eastern, twenty in a southern, and thirty- 
three in a northern ; and Neff persevered, in all seasons, in pass¬ 
ing on foot from one district to another, climbing mountains 
covered with snow, forcing a way through the valleys, choked 
up by the masses of rocks that were hurled down by the winter’s 
storm, and partaking of the coarse fare and imperfect shelter 
of the peasant’s hut. His first attempt at improving his peo¬ 
ple was to impart an idea of domestic convenience. Chimneys 
and windows to their hovels were luxuries to which few of them 
had aspired, till he taught them how easy it was to make a pas¬ 
sage for the smoke, and to procure admittance for the light and 
air. He next convinced them that warmth might be obtained 
more wholesomely than by living together in stables, from 
which the muck of the cattle was removed but once during the 
year. He taught them, also, how to cultivate their lands to 
advantage, and the proper remedies to be used in cases of sick¬ 
ness. He improved their manners, which had been so savage 
that the women had not been permitted to sit at table with their 
husbands or brothers, but stood behind them, and received 


FELIX NEFF. 


573 


morsels from their hands. He laboured hard to diffuse know¬ 
ledge among them; and, with a view of providing proper 
teachers for these isolated tracts, he persuaded a number of 
young persons to assemble, during the most dreary part of the 
year, when they could not labour in the fields, and to work hard 
with him in the attainment of knowledge, which they were after¬ 
wards to spread among their neighbours. His unremitting 
labours finally destroyed his health, and he was obliged to quit 
the inclement district in which he had accomplished so much 
good. He lingered for some time in a debilitated state, and at 
length died at Geneva, April 12, 1829.* 


* Encyclopaedia Americana. 



574 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. 



ILLIAM WILBERFORCE, whose name a 
heartfelt, enlightened, and unwearied phi¬ 
lanthropy, directing talents of the highest 
order, has enrolled among those of the most 
illustrious benefactors of mankind, was born 
August 24,1759, in Hull, where his ancestors 
had been long and successfully engaged in 
trade. By his father’s death he was left an 
orphan at an early age. He received the chief 
part of his education at the grammar school of 
Pocklington, in Yorkshire, and at St. John’s Col¬ 
lege, Cambridge, of which he became a fellow-com¬ 
moner about 1776 or 1777. When just of age, and 
apparently before taking his B. A. degree, he was re¬ 
turned for his native town at the general election of 
1780. In 1784 he was returned again; but being also 
chosen member for Yorkshire, he elected to sit for that great 
county, which he continued to represent until the year 1812, 
during six successive parliaments. From 1812 to 1825, when 
he retired from parliament, he was returned by Lord Calthorpe 
for the borough of Bramber. His politics were in general those 
of Mr. Pitt’s party, and his first prominent appearance was in 
1783, in opposition to Mr. Fox’s India Bill. In 1786, he intro¬ 
duced and carried through the Commons a hill for the amend¬ 
ment of the criminal code, which was roughly handled by the 
Lord Chancellor Thurlow, and rejected in the House of Lords 
without a division. 

At the time when Mr. Wilberforce was rising into manhood, 
the iniquity of the Slave Trade had engaged in a slight degree 
the attention of the public. To the Quakers belong the high 
honour of having taken the lead in denouncing that unjust and 
unchristian traffic. At the beginning of the eighteenth century, 


WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. 


575 


during the life of Penn, the Quakers of Pennsylvania passed a 
censure upon it, and from time to time the Society of Friends 
expressed their disapprobation of the deportation of negroes, 
until in 1761 they completed their good work by a resolution 
to disown all such as continued to be engaged in it. Occasion¬ 
ally the question was brought before magistrates, whether a 
slave became entitled to his liberty upon landing in England. 
In 1765, Granville Sharp came forward as the protector of a 
negro, who, having been abandoned and cast upon the world in 
disease and misery by his owner, was healed and assisted 
through the charity of Mr. Sharp’s brother. Recovering his 
value with his health, he was claimed and seized by his master, 
and would have been shipped to the colonies, as many Africans 
were, but for the prompt and resolute interference of Mr. Sharp. 
In several similar cases the same gentleman came forward suc¬ 
cessfully ; but the general question was not determined, or even 
argued, until 1772, when the celebrated case of the negro 
Somerset was brought before the Court of King’s Bench, which 
adjudged, after a deliberate hearing, that in England the right 
of the master over the slave could not be maintained. The 
general question was afterwards, in 1778, decided still more 
absolutely by the Scotch Courts, in the case of Wedderburn v. 
Knight. In 1783, an event occurred well qualified to rouse the 
feelings of the nation, and call its attention to the atrocities of 
which the Slave Trade was the cause and pretext. An action 
was brought by certain underwriters against the owners of the 
ship Zong, on the ground that the captain had caused 132 weak, 
sickly slaves to be thrown overboard, for the purpose of claiming 
their value, for which the plaintiffs would not have been liable 
if the cargo had died a natural death. The fact of the drowning 
was admitted, and defended on the plea that want of water had 
rendered it necessary; though it appeared that the crew had 
not been put upon short allowance. It now seems incredible 
that no criminal proceeding should have been instituted against 
the perpetrators of this wholesale murder. 

In 1785, the Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge proposed, as the 
subject for the Bachelor’s Prize Essay, the question, Is it 
allowable to enslave men without their consent? Thomas 
Clarkson, who had gained the prize in the preceding year, 
again became a candidate. Conceiving that the thesis, though 


576 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


couched in general terms, had an especial reference to the Afri¬ 
can Slave Trade, he went to London to make inquiries on the 
subject. Investigation brought under his view a mass of cruel¬ 
ties and abominations which engrossed his thoughts and shocked 
his imagination. By night and day they haunted him; and 
he has described in lively colours the intense pain which this 
composition, undertaken solely in the spirit of honourable 
rivalry, inflicted on him. He gained the prize, but found it 
impossible to discard the subject from his thoughts. In the 
succeeding autumn, after great struggles of mind, he resolved 
to give up his plan for entering the Church, and devoted time, 
health and substance (to use his own words) to “ seeing these 
calamities to an end.” In sketching the progress of this great 
measure, the name of Wilberforce alone will be presented to 
view; and it is our duty therefore, in the first place, to make 
honourable mention of him who roused Wilberforce in the cause, 
and whose athletic vigour and indomitable perseverance sur¬ 
mounted danger, difficulties, fatigues, and discouragements, 
which few men could have endured, in the first great object of 
collecting evidence of the cruelties habitually perpetrated in 
the Slave Trade. 

In the first stage of his proceedings, Mr. Clarkson, in the 
course of his application to members of Parliament, called on 
Mr. Wilberforce, who stated, that “the subject had often em¬ 
ployed his thoughts, and was near his heart.” He inquired 
into the authorities for the statements laid before him, and 
became, not only convinced of, but impressed with, the para¬ 
mount duty of abolishing so hateful a traffic. Occasional meet¬ 
ings of those who were alike interested were held at his house; 
and in May, 1787, a committee was formed, of which Wilber¬ 
force became Parliamentary leader. Early in 1788 he gave 
notice of his intention to bring the subject before the House; 
but owing to his severe indisposition that task was ultimately 
undertaken by Mr. Pitt, who moved and carried a resolution, 
pledging the House in the ensuing session to enter on the con¬ 
sideration of the subject. Accordingly, May 12, 1789, Mr. 
Wilberforce moved a series of resolutions, founded on a report 
of the Privy Council, exposing the iniquity and cruelty of the 
traffic in slaves, the mortality which it occasioned among white 
as well as black men, and the neglect of health and morals by 


WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. 


577 

which the natural increase of the race in the West India islands 
was checked; and concluding with a declaration, that if the 
causes were removed by which that increase was checked, no 
considerable inconvenience would result from discontinuing the 
importation of African slaves. Burke, Pitt, and Fox supported 
the resolutions. Mr. Wilberforce’s speech was distinguished by 
eloquence and earnestness, and by its unanswerable appeals to 
the first principles of justice and religion. The consideration 
of the subject was ultimately adjourned to the following session. 
In that, and in two subsequent sessions, the motions were 
renewed, and the effect of pressing such a subject upon the 
attention of the country was to open the eyes of many who 
would willingly have kept them closed, yet could not deny the 
existence of the evils so forced on their view. 

In 1792, Mr. Wilberforce’s motion for the Abolition of the 
Slave Trade was met by a proposal to insert in it the word 
‘‘graduallyand in pursuance of the same policy, Mr. Dundas 
introduced a bill to provide for its discontinuance in 1800. The 
date was altered to 1796, and in that state the bill passed the 
Commons, but was stopped in the Upper House by a proposal 
to hear evidence upon it. Mr. Wilberforce annually renewed 
his efforts, and brought every new argument to bear upon the 
question, which new discoveries, or the events of the times, 
produced. In 1799, the friends of the measure resolved on 
letting it repose for a while, and for five years Mr. Wilberforce 
contented himself with moving for certain papers; but he took 
an opportunity of assuring the House that he had not grown 
cool in the cause, and that he would renew the discussion in a 
future session. On the 30th of May, 1804, he once more moved 
for leave to bring in his bill for the Abolition of the Slave 
Trade, in a speech of great eloquence and effect. He took the 
opportunity of making a powerful appeal to the Irish members, 
before whom, in consequence of the Union, this question was 
now for the first time brought, and the greater part of whom 
supported it. The division showed a majority of 124 to 49 in his 
favour; and the bill was carried through the Commons, but 
was again postponed in the House of Lords. In 1805 he re¬ 
newed his motion, but on this occasion it was lost in the Com¬ 
mons by over-security among the friends of the measure. But 
when Mr. Fox and Lord Grenville took office in 1806, the 
73 3 C 


578 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


Abolition was brought forward by the ministers, most of whom 
supported it, though it was not made a government question, in 
consequence of several members of the cabinet opposing it. 
The Attorney-General (Sir A. Pigott) brought in a bill, which 
was passed into a law, prohibiting the Slave Trade in the con¬ 
quered colonies, and excluding British subjects from engaging 
in the foreign Slave Trade; and Mr. Fox, at Mr. Wilberforce s 
special request, introduced a resolution pledging the House to 
take the earliest measures for effectually abolishing the whole 
Slave Trade: this resolution was carried by a majority of 114 to 
15; and January 2, 1807, Lord Grenville brought forward a bill 
for the Abolition of the Slave Trade, in the House of Lords, which 
passed safely through both houses of parliament. As, however, 
the king was believed to be unfriendly to the measure, some alarm 
was felt by its friends, lest its fate might still be affected by the 
dismissal of the ministers, which had been determined upon. 
Those fears were groundless; for though they received orders 
to deliver up the seals of their offices on the 25th of March, the 
royal assent was given by commission by the Lord Chancellor 
Erskine on the same day; and thus the last act of the admin¬ 
istration was to conclude a contest, maintained by prejudice 
and interest during twenty years, for the support of what Mr. 
Pitt denominated “the greatest practical evil that ever afflicted 
the human race.” 

Among other testimonies to Mr. Wilberforce’s merits, we are 
not inclined to omit that of Sir James Mackintosh, who in his 
journal, May 23, 1808, speaks thus of Wilberforce on the 
“Abolition.” This refers to a pamphlet on the Slave Trade 
which Mr. Wilberforce had published in 1806:—“Almost as 
much enchanted by Mr. Wilberforce’s book as by his conduct. 
He is the very model of a reformer. Ardent without turbu¬ 
lence, mild without timidity or coolness, neither yielding to 
difficulties, nor disturbed or exasperated by them; patient and 
meek, yet intrepid; persisting for twenty years through good 
report and evil report; just and charitable even to his most 
malignant enemies; unwearied in every experiment to disarm 
the prejudices of his more rational and disinterested opponents, 
and supporting the zeal, without dangerously exciting the pas¬ 
sions of his adherents.” 

The rest of Mr. Wilberforce’s parliamentary conduct was 


WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. 


579 

consistent with his behaviour on this question. In debates 
chiefly political he rarely took a forward part; but where re¬ 
ligion and morals were directly concerned, points on which few 
cared to interfere, and where a leader was wanted, he never 
shrunk from the advocacy of his opinions. He was a supporter 
of Catholic Emancipation and Parliamentary Reform; he con¬ 
demned the encouragement of gambling, in the shape of lotteries 
established by government ; he insisted on the cruelty of em- 
ploying boys of tender age as chimney-sweepers; he attempted 
to procure a legislative enactment against duelling, after the 
hostile meeting between Pitt and Tierney; and on the renewal 
of the East India Company’s charter in 1816, he gave his 
zealous support to the propagation of Christianity in Hindostan, 
in opposition to those who, as has been more recently done in 
the West Indies, represented the employment of missionaries 
to be inconsistent with the preservation of the British empire 
in India. It is encouraging to observe, that with the exception 
of the one levelled against duelling, all these measures, however 
violently opposed and unfairly censured, have been carried in a 
more or less perfect form. 

As an author, Mr. Wilberforce’s claim to notice is chiefly 
derived from his treatise entitled “ A Practical View of the pre¬ 
vailing religious system of professing Christians in the higher 
and middle classes in this country, contrasted with Real Chris¬ 
tianity.” The object of it was to show that the standard of 
life generally adopted by those classes, not only fell short of, 
but was inconsistent with, the doctrines of the gospel. It has 
justly been applauded as a work of no common courage, not 
from the asperity of its censures, for it breathes throughout a 
spirit of gentleness and love, but on the joint consideration of 
the unpopularity of the subject and the writer’s position. The 
Bishop of Calcutta, in his introductory essay, justly observes, 
that “ the author in attempting it risked every thing dear to a 
public man and a politician, as such—consideration, weight, 
ambition, reputation.” And Scott, the divine, one of the most 
fearless and ardent of men, viewed the matter in the same light; 
for he wrote, “ Taken in all its probable effects, I do sincerely 
think such a stand for vital Christianity has not been made in 
my memory. He has come out beyond my expectations.” Of 
a work so generally known we shall not describe the tendency 


580 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


more at large. It is said to have gone through about twenty 
editions in Britain, since the publication in 1797, and more in 
America; and to have been translated into most European 
languages. 

In the discharge of his parliamentary duties Mr. Wilberforce 
was punctual and active beyond his apparent strength; and 
those who further recollect his diligent attendance on a vast 
variety of public meetings and committees connected with re¬ 
ligious and charitable purposes, will wonder how a frame na¬ 
turally weak should so long have endured the wear of such 
exertion. In 1788, when his illness was a matter of deep con¬ 
cern to the Abolitionists, Dr. Warren said that he had not 
stamina to last a fortnight. No doubt his bodily powers were 
greatly aided by the placid and happy frame of mind which he 
habitually enjoyed: but it is important to relate his own opinion, 
as delivered by an ear-witness, on the physical benefits which 
he derived from a strict abstinence from temporal affairs on 
Sundays. “I have often heard him assert that he never could 
have sustained the labour and stretch of mind required in his 
early political life, if it had not been for the rest of his Sab¬ 
bath; and that he could name several of his contemporaries in 
the vortex of political cares, whose minds had actually given 
way under the stress of intellectual labour, so as to bring on a 
premature death, or the still more dreadful catastrophe of in¬ 
sanity and suicide, who, humanly speaking, might have been 
preserved in health, if they would but conscientiously have 
observed the Sabbath.” (Venn’s Sermon.) 

In 1797, Mr. Wilberforce married Miss Spooner, daughter 
of an eminent banker at Birmingham. Four sons survive him. 
He died, after a gradual decline, July 29, 1883, in Cadogan 
Place. He directed that his funeral should be conducted with¬ 
out the smallest pomp; but his orders were disregarded, in 
compliance with a requisition addressed to his relatives by many 
of the most distinguished men of all parties, and couched in 
the following terms:—“ We, the undersigned Members of both 
Houses of Parliament, being anxious, upon public grounds, to 
show our respect for the memory of the late William Wilber¬ 
force, and being also satisfied that public honours can never be 
more fitly bestowed than upon such benefactors of mankind, 
earnestly request that he may be buried in Westminster Abbey, 


WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. 


581 


and that we, and others who may agree with us in these senti¬ 
ments, may have permission to attend his funeral.” The at¬ 
tendance of both Houses was numerous. Mr. Wilberforce was 
interred within a few yards of his great contemporaries Pitt, 
Fox, and Canning. 

Among the other honours paid to his memory may he men¬ 
tioned the York meeting, held October 3, 1833, at which it was 
resolved to erect a public memorial in testimony of the high 
estimation in which Mr. Wilberforce’s character and services 
were held by men of all parties: and further, “that it is advisable 
(if the sum raised be adequate) to found a benevolent institution, 
of a useful description, in this county, and to put up a tablet 
to the memory of Mr. Wilberforce; but should the subscriptions 
be insufficient to accomplish such an object, that they should be 
applied to the erection of a monument.” An asylum for the 
indigent blind has in consequence been founded. At Hull a 
monument has likewise been erected to his memory by public 
subscription; and a statue by Joseph is about to be placed in 
Westminster Abbey, also by subscription, the surplus of the 
fund thus raised being reserved for founding an institution con¬ 
genial to his principles, as soon as it shall be sufficient for the 
purpose. 

In 1838 a complete life of this eminent man was published by 
his sons, in five volumes. The letters, and other original matter 
of these volumes, are of the highest interest. 


582 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JOHN FREDERICK OBERLIN. 



OHN FREDERICK OBERLIN was born on 
the thirty-first day of August, 1740, at Stras- 
burgh, in Germany. From his childhood he 
was remarkable for his thoughtful and amia¬ 
ble disposition, and many anecdotes are told 
of his infancy illustrating these qualities. His 
^ father was poor, but he every week gave each 
of his children a penny to spend as they choose. 
Little Frederick kept all he received in a box, and 
when he saw by his father’s face on a Saturday 
night that he could not pay the shoemaker, or the 
tailor, he would bring his treasure to help to make 
up the amount. Once when the box was nearly full 
of savings, he saw some malicious boys knock down a 
basket of eggs, which a countrywoman carried on her 
head. Sorry for the poor woman’s loss and trouble, 
he ran home to the box, and gave the woman all he had in it. 
At another time, he saw an infirm old woman in a shop trying 
to get an article at a few cents below its price, which was more 
than all the money she had. Frederick waited until she left 
the shop in disappointment, then put the sum she wanted into 
the merchant’s hand, whispered to him to call her back, and 
then ran away before she had time to thank him. 

His pious mother improved this beautiful disposition to the 
utmost, and to her he always acknowledged himself indebted 
for the love of the “ Things that are Excellent,” and the desires 
he afterwards felt to be the instrument of doing good. In the 
evening she assembled the family round a table, and while they 
endeavoured to copy pictures their father had drawn for them, 
she read aloud an instructive book. When they were about to 
separate for the night, they seldom failed to ask for a hymn 
from dear mamma, and in the hymn and the prayer which fol- 



JOHN FREDERICK OBERLIN. 


583 


lowed it they were led to him who said “ Suffer little children 
to come unto me.” 

His father had seven sons, and he used to teach them the mili¬ 
tary exercises, of which Frederick became very fond; but his 
father did not wish him to become a soldier, so he gave these 
up and attended more closely to study. He entered the univer¬ 
sity as a theological student, and while there, the preaching of 
an earnest minister had so great an effect upon him, that at the 
age of twenty he solemnly devoted himself by a written cove¬ 
nant to the service of God. 

When his studies were finished he was ordained a minister, 
but did not for seven years undertake any particular charge in 
that character, employing himself as a private tutor in the 
family of a physician, where he learned much of the art of medi¬ 
cine that was very useful to him in his future life. An appoint¬ 
ment as chaplain in the French army was offered to him in 1766, 
which he determined to accept, and he commenced preparations 
for the situation, when Mr. Stouber came to ask him to take 
charge of the Ban de la Boche. He found Oberlin living in 
the greatest simplicity, in a little room up three pair of stairs 
with scarcely any furniture ; being in the habit of dining at his 
father’s and bringing thence a piece of bread which served for 
his supper. He accepted Mr. Stouber’s invitation, and removed 
to Waldbach on the 80th of March, 1767, being then in the twen¬ 
ty-seventh year of his age. 

The Ban de la Roche takes its name from the castle La 
Roche, the Rock, around which the Ban or district extends. 
It is a mountainous region in the north-east of France, consist¬ 
ing of two parishes, one called Rothau, the other comprising 
five hamlets called Waldbach. This village of Waldbach, at 
which Oberlin resided, is situated on a mountain at the height of 
eighteen hundred feet, and the Ban presents the greatest variety 
of temperature and productiveness, the parts on the tops of the 
mountains being intensely cold while the delights of spring reign 
in the valleys below. The district contains only about nine thou¬ 
sand acres in all, one-third of which are covered with wood. The 
winter commences in September, and the snow remains on the high 
grounds without melting until the succeeding May or June. 
So little vegetation is there on these heights that the peasants 
say that a woman can carry home in her apron all that her hus- 


584 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


band can mow in a day. In the 17th century, this district was 
laid waste by the wars which were carried on in this part of 
France, and the poor people who resided in it were reduced to 
a wretched state, there being no roads from dhe place to another, 
and but little land cultivated. Their condition, however, gave 
them an exemption from the persecution which the Roman 
Catholics maintained against their Protestant brethren in other 
parts of France. 

A compassionate Lutheran minister named Stouber was so 
kind as to leave Germany in 1750, and come among these poor 
people, with the design of improving their condition. An anec¬ 
dote he relates will serve to show the nature of the task he now 
commenced and which Oberlin continued. He asked on his 
arrival to be shown to the principal school-house, and was led to 
a miserable cottage where a number of children were crowded 
together without any occupation, and in so wild and noisy a 
state that it was a matter of difficulty to gain any reply to his 
inquiries for the master. 

“ There he is,” said one, after he had obtained a little silence, 
pointing to a withered old man who lay on a little bed in one 
corner of the apartment. 

“ Are you the schoolmaster, my good friend ?” inquired 
Stouber. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ And what do you teach the children ?” 

“Nothing, sir.” 

“ Nothing 1 how is that ?” 

“Because I know nothing myself.” 

“ Why then were you made schoolmaster ?” 

“Why, sir, I had been taking care of the Waldbach pigs for 
a great number of years; and when I got too old and infirm 
for that employment, they sent me here to take care of the 
children.” 

The other schools were in a similar condition, and the best of 
them were taught by shepherds, who kept flocks in the summer 
and taught the schools in the winter, trying to educate the 
young while they could not gather the meaning of what they 
attempted to read themselves. Stouber set about reforming the 
schools; but to his great surprise he could not get any of the 
better class of people to permit their children to assume the 


JOHN FREDERICK OBERLIN. 


585 


office of schoolmaster, which was wholly sunk in contempt. To 
obviate this difficulty he invented a new name, and was pleased 
to find the most promising of the young men willing to become 
superintendents of the schools. Their salaries were very small, 
hut a benevolent individual at Strasburg gave him three hun¬ 
dred and fifty dollars, that the interest might be expended in 
rewarding the teachers whose pupils made the most rapid 
progress. 

Stouber next attempted to build a school-house, and waited 
on the praetor of Strasburg for permission to take the ne¬ 
cessary timber gratuitously from the forests in the neighbour¬ 
hood. This request was refused absolutely. Then Stouber, 
who was a man of great readiness and tact, desired permission 
to make a collection for this purpose among charitable indi¬ 
viduals. This was granted without a word of objection. “Well 
then,” said Stouber, presenting his hat, “you are, please your 
excellency, known as a charitable person, and I will make the 
beginning with you.” The praetor, in great glee at the 
manoeuvre, immediately gave him liberty to cut down as much 
wood as he pleased, on condition that he should dine with him 
every time he came to Strasburg. 

Stouber next had a battle with the ignorance and prejudice 
of the people, who began to fear that they would soon have to 
pay higher salaries to the teachers for all this learning, but 
they became more reconciled when they found their children 
able to read to them, and finally some of them came forward 
and desired that they too might be taught. The good pastor 
complied, and established schools for adults in the long evenings 
of winter. He gave them the Bible to read, and as he could 
not get more than fifty copies, he divided each into three parts, 
that one hundred and fifty persons might have the benefit of 
some part of the Holy Word. Seventeen years had been passed 
in these efforts, and scarcely any thing more than a beginning 
was effected, when Stouber was called to be the pastor of a 
church in Strasburg, which was not far off. He resolved to 
accept the call, and, as we have seen, chose Oberlin to succeed 
him at Waldbach. 

When Oberlin came among them their language was barbarous; 
they were shut up in their mountain homes by the want of roads, 
the farmers were destitute of the most necessary implements, 
74 


586 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


and the quantity of provisions they raised was not sufficient for 
the wants of the population. For more than half a century, 
Oberlin laboured among them with zeal and patience, and firm¬ 
ness and discrimination. He made of his parish a heaven upon 
earth. The language from an unintelligible jargon was altered 
into pure French, the manners of the people were refined, and 
ignorance banished without injuring the simplicity of character. 
The good pastor was assisted in his labours by many of the 
young whom he trained for the purpose; from all the country 
round, children were sent to his schools, and to be “a scholar 
of pastor Oberlin” was a sufficient testimonial. Everybody, 
maids, children, poor and rich, called Oberlin their “dear papa,” 
and there never was a more complete father of a large family. 
The poorest of them seemed nearest his heart, and in them the 
strangers who visited this parish were not more surprised than 
delighted, to trace a large share of the spirituality, humility, 
and cultivation of mind that distinguished him. He taught 
them many things besides religious knowledge. The minds of 
all were polished by music, drawing, botany, geography and 
other studies of an elevating character. He prepared leather 
gloves for them at one time while a stranger was making him 
a visit, and frequently put a word in with the teachings of his 
eldest son, who was giving a lesson to some of the little ones. 
In his workshop was a lathe, a complete set of carpenters’ tools, 
a printing-press, and a press for book-binding. He gave scarcely 
any thing to his people but what had been in some measure 
prepared by his own or his children’s hands. One stranger 
saw him surrounded by four or five families that had been burnt 
out of their houses. He was dividing among them clothes, 
meat, books, knives, thimbles and coloured pictures for the 
children, whom he placed in a row according to their ages, and 
allowed them to choose for themselves. “The most perfect 
equality,” says a visitor, “reigns in his house; children, ser¬ 
vants, boarders—all are treated alike; their places at table 
change, that each in turn may sit next to him, with the ex¬ 
ception of Louisa, his housekeeper, who of course presides, and 
his two maids who sit at the end of the table. As it is his 
custom to salute every member of his family, night and morning, 
these two little maids come very respectfully courtesying to him, 
and he always gives them his hand, and inquires after their 


JOHN FREDERICK OBERLIN. 


587 . 


health with good wishes. All are happy and appear to owe 
much of their happiness to him. They seem to be ready to 
sacrifice their lives to save his.” He taught them to look upon 
the Lord as their father, « our father,” he would say, and the dear 
Bible was the source of all his instructions. On Friday evenings 
he would have a service for those who understood German better 
than French, when he would preach in the former language, 
using the simplest form of words that every one could under¬ 
stand. Occasionally he would ask them if they were tired, or 
if he had said enough, and the answers came up in a gentle 
remonstrance from loving lips, “No, papa, go on—we should 
like to hear a little more.” And he would continue his explana¬ 
tions of the word, until they ended the meeting by general 
consent. 

A traveller states that as he had the highest regard for his 
people, so he had the best opinion of their skill, and wondered 
that any one should doubt it. One day, when they were driven 
by a man who seemed to go on in a hazardous manner, this 
gentleman happened to say, “Take care.” Oberlin felt hurt at 
the admonition, both on account of the stranger and the driver. 
He assured the one that all was safe; and at the end of the ride 
took the greatest pains to prevent or remove any feeling of 
vexation from arising in the mind of his parishioner. His peo¬ 
ple emulated him in his virtues, and strangers were sorely 
puzzled who thought to reward services so cheerfully rendered 
them on every hand. They would take no money, they had all 
they wanted, and they served only for love. For Oberlin they 
all entertained the deepest love and veneration, and they never 
met him without some extremely affecting demonstration of 
regard. 

In 1818, the Count of Neufchateau, speaking of the improve¬ 
ments Oberlin had effected in the cultivation of the soil, in a 
report to the Agricultural Society of Paris, says, “If you would 
behold an instance of what may be effected in any country for 
the advancement of agriculture and the interests of humanity, 
quit for a moment the banks of the Seine, and ascend one of 
the steepest summits of the Vosges mountains. Friends of the 
plough and of human happiness, come and behold the Ban de 
la Roche.” In the years 1812, 1816, and 1817, he averted 
the horrors of approaching famine from his parish by his ex- 


588 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


traordinary efforts and unabated exertions; the new crop of 
potatoes that he had introduced giving subsistence to his people 
when they could harvest no corn. As a testimony of their 
gratification, a gold medal was presented to him by the Agri¬ 
cultural Society, and Louis XVIII. honoured him with a badge 
of distinction. 

As pastor, physician, farmer, mechanic, and schoolmaster, 
Oberlin found a most devoted and able assistant in his prudent 
and judicious wife, a young lady of Strasburg whom he married 
in 1768. She was to the women of the parish a model, which 
they might imitate with as much advantage as the men could do 
that of her husband. On her death, in 1784, the care of his 
household devolved on Louisa Schepler, an orphan who had been 
eight years in his family, and was then twenty-three years of 
age. She had been one of the most active conductors of the 
infant schools in Waldbach from their commencement. She was 
adopted as a daughter by “papa Oberlin,” and resolutely re¬ 
fusing all offers of marriage, she devoted her life to assisting 
him in his labours, refusing to receive any salary or money, but 
living in his family as a friend, rather than a servant. 

Oberlin died on the first of June, 1826, being nearly eighty- 
six years of age and in the sixtieth year of his residence in 
Waldbach. The number of those who attended his funeral was 
so great that the head of the procession reached the church 
where the burial was to take place, before the end of it had left 
the house, two miles distant. His remains were committed to 
the grave amidst the deepest lamentation of the multitude, and 
the oldest inhabitant of the ban placed over it a cross prepared 
by direction of Louisa Schepler, on which was the simple in¬ 
scription—“Papa Oberlin.” 


HENRY KIRKE WHITE. 


589 


HENRY KIRKE WHITE, 



ON of a butcher, at Nottingham, was born 
there, on the 21st of March, 1785. At the 
age of three years, he was placed at a female 
seminary, and by his attachment to juvenile 
literature, attracted the particular notice of 
his school-mistress, whom he has celebrated in 
his poem of “ Childhood.” Even in his infancy, 
his thirst for knowledge was so extraordinary 
that it required the most affectionate solicitations, 
and sometimes a degree of austerity, to induce 
him to be less constant in his application to study. 
At seven years of age, he used to employ himself 
unknown to his parents, in teaching the servants to 
read and write, and his own desire of receiving in¬ 
struction was not less remarkable, on his being put to 
school, about this time, with the Rev. Mr. Blanchard, 
at Nottingham. Here he learned the rudiments of mathematics 
and the English and French languages, and in all respects dis¬ 
played wonderful powers of acquisition. “ When about eleven,” 
says Dr. Southey, in his life of White, “ he, one day, wrote a 
separate theme for every boy in his class, which consisted of 
about twelve or fourteen; the master said he had never known 
them write so well upon any subject before, and could not re¬ 
frain from expressing his astonishment at the excellence of 
Henry’s.” His schoolfellows considered him as a particularly 
cheerful, amiable, and even sportive companion; but having 
lampooned one of the ushers, he, in revenge, told our author’s 
mother “ what an incorrigible son she had, and how unlikely 
he was to make any progress in his studies.” He was, in con¬ 
sequence, removed to the academy of Mr. Henry Shipley ; and, 
about the same time, he is said to have derived great gratifica¬ 
tion at being released from the degrading occupation of a 


590 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


butcher’s errand-boy, in which he had hitherto been employed 
every market-day, and at other leisure times. His family, also, 
having removed to a more commodious house in the town, he 
was allotted a small apartment to himself, which he called his 
study. On attaining his fourteenth year, he was placed in a 
stocking-frame to prepare himself for the hosiery line; but be¬ 
ing averse to the occupation, he was subsequently articled to 
Messrs. Coldham and Enfield, attorneys of Nottingham. He 
devoted himself with steadiness to his profession during the day, 
and passed his evenings in the acquirement of the Latin, Greek, 
and Italian languages; and afterwards, the Spanish and Portu¬ 
guese. His proficiency soon displayed itself, and caused him 
to be elected a member of the Nottingham Literary Society, 
who, shortly after his admission, appointed him their professor 
of literature, in consequence of his delivery of an admirable 
extempore lecture on Genius, of nearly two hours’ duration. 

He might now, says one of his biographers, be called, “ The 
Crichton of Nottinghamfor chemistry, astronomy, drawing, 
music, and even practical mechanics, equally claimed his atten¬ 
tion ; and his attainments in each were considerable. At the 
age of fifteen, he obtained, from the Monthly Preceptor, two 
prizes,—a silver medal and a pair of twelve-inch globes,—for a 
translation from Horace, and a description of an imaginary tour 
from London to Edinburgh. In 1802, he had written a volume 
of poems called “ Clifton Grove,” and other pieces, in the hope 
that the publication of them would enable him to study at col¬ 
lege for the church, though feeling no dislike to his own profes¬ 
sion, in which he was ambitious of rising. “ A deafness, how¬ 
ever,” says Southey, “to which he had always been subject, 
appeared to grow worse, and threatened to preclude all hope of 
advancement; and his opinions, which had once inclined to 
deism, had now taken a strong devotional bias.” After receiv¬ 
ing a polite refusal from the Countess of Derby, for permission 
to dedicate to her his poems, he obtained the consent of the 
Dutchess of Devonshire to the use of her name, and they accord¬ 
ingly appeared, in 1804, inscribed to her Grace, who, however, 
took no farther notice of the author or his book. Some remarks 
upon it, in “ The Monthly Review,” describing it as being pub¬ 
lished under the discouragement of penury and misfortune, 
caused him much mortification, as will be seen from the follow- 


HENRY KIRKE WHITE. 


591 


ing letter:—“ The unfavourable review (in The Monthly) of 
my unhappy work, has cut deeper than you could have thought; 
not in a literary point of view, but as it affects my respecta¬ 
bility. It represents me actually as a beggar, going about 
gathering money to put myself at college when my work is 
worthless; and this with every appearance of candour. They 
have been sadly misinformed respecting me : this review goes 
before me wherever I turn my steps; it haunts me incessantly, 
and I am persuaded it is an instrument in the hands of Satan 
to drive me to distraction. I must leave Nottingham.” 

Messrs. Coldham and Enfield having agreed to give up the 
remainder of his time, Henry now zealously devoted himself to 
the study of divinity; and reading, among other books, Scott’s 
Force of Truth, he remarked that it was founded upon eternal 
truth, and that it convinced him of his errors. The avidity of 
his search after knowledge increased daily, or rather nightly ; 
for it is said that he frequently limited his time of rest to a 
couple of hours, and, with a desperate and deadly ardour, would 
often study the whole night long. The night, he used to say, was 
every thing to him; and that if the world knew how he had been 
indebted to its hours, they would not wonder that night images 
were so predominant in his verses. The result of this applica¬ 
tion was a severe illness; on his recovery from which, he pro¬ 
duced those beautiful lines, written in Milford churchyard. 

In July, 1814, his long-delayed hopes of entering the univer¬ 
sity were about to be gratified: “I can now inform you,” he 
writes to a friend, in this month, “ that I have reason to believe 
my way through college is close before me. From what source 
I know not; but through the hands of Mr. Simeon, I am pro¬ 
vided with c£30 per annum; and, while things go on prosper¬ 
ously, as they do now, I can command £20 or £30 more from 
my friends : and this, in all probability, until I take my degree. 
The friends to whom I allude are my mother and brother.” In 
addition to this, an unknown friend offered him £30 a year, 
which he declined, as also the assistance of the Elland Society, 
where he had been previously examined by upwards of twenty 
clergymen, who expressed themselves in terms of astonishment 
at his classical proficiency, and were well satisfied with his theo¬ 
logical knowledge. Mr. Simeon, who had promised him a sizer- 
ship at St. John’s, now advised him to degrade for a year, which 


592 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


he, in consequence, passed at Winteringham, in Lincolnshire, 
under the tuition of the Rev. Mr. Grainger. Here intense ap¬ 
plication to his studies brought on a second fit of illness, from 
which he was scarcely recovered at the time of his return to 
Cambridge, in October, 1805. During his first term, he an¬ 
nounced himself a candidate for a university scholarship, but 
ill health compelled him to decline it: he, however, made great 
exertions to undergo the college examination, which he was 
enabled to do with the aid of strong stimulants and medicines ; 
and he was pronounced the first man of his year. The efforts 
he put forth on this occasion, probably, cost him his life, for 
he remarked to a friend, “that were he to paint a picture of 
Fame crowning a distinguished under-graduate, after the senate- 
house examination, he would represent her, as concealing a 
death’s-head under a mask of beauty.” 

After paying a visit to London, he returned to Cambridge, 
in January, 1806, and prepared himself for the great college 
examination which took place in June, when he was again pro¬ 
nounced the first man. The college now offered to supply him 
with a mathematical tutor, free of expense; and exhibitions, 
to the amount of <£68 a-year, being procured for him, he was 
enabled to dispense with further assistance from his friends. 
Logarithms and problems now engrossed the attention of his 
already overstrained mind; but his feeble frame, not equally 
under his command, soon checked the rapid but destructive ad¬ 
vance of his mental powers. One morning his laundress found 
him insensible, bleeding in four different places in his face and 
head: he had fallen down in a state of exhaustion, in the act 
of sitting down to decipher some logarithm tables. Still he 
persisted to nourish “the wound that laid him low but nature 
was at length overcome : he grew delirious, and died on the 19th 
of October, 1806, in his twenty-first year. 

Thus fell, a victim to his own genius, one, whose abilities and 
acquirements were not more conspicuous than his moral and 
social excellence. “ It is not possible,” says Southey, “ to con¬ 
ceive a human being more amiable in all the relations of life. 
He was the confidential friend and adviser of every member of 
his family; this he instinctively became : and the thorough good¬ 
ness of his advice is not less remarkable than the affection with 
which it is always communicated.” Good sense, indeed, at all 


/ 


IIENRY KIRKE WHITE. 593 

times, and latterly, fervent piety, appear to have been his chief 
characteristics; the latter enabled him to overcome a naturally 
irritable temper; and it was impossible, says the above author¬ 
ity, for man to be more tenderly patient of the faults of others, 
more uniformly meek, or more unaffectedly humble. 

With regard to his poems, observes the laureate, “ Chatterton 
is the only youthful poet whom he does not leave far behind 
himand, in alluding to some of his papers, handed to him 
for perusal after the death of White, he observes, “ I have in¬ 
spected all the existing manuscripts of Chatterton, and they 
excited less wonder than these.” 


75 


3 d 2 


594 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


THOMAS CHALMERS.* 



.HALMERS was born at Anstruther, in Fife- 
shire, in April, 1780. His parents were com¬ 
mon tradespeople, who, with that laudable 
desire to give their children education, for 
which the Scotch are distinguished, struggled 
hard to give Thomas a college education, that 
he might become a minister. He was, there¬ 
fore, educated in all the higher branches of 
science and philosophy at St. Andrew’s College 
and University, having been previously rooted and 
grounded in the elements at the parochial school of 
his native town. Having taken out his degree of 
Master of Arts, he attended the divinity-hall, and was 
licensed to preach at the beginning of the present 
century. On becoming a licentiate of the Church of 
Scotland, and even after his ordination as a minister of 
that church, he entered on engagements of a more general kind 
than those usually filled in connection with the clerical pro¬ 
fession. He became a member of a yeomanry corps, and de¬ 
livered different courses of scientific lectures in the neighbour¬ 
hood of his native town. After officiating for about two years 
as assistant in the parish of Cavers, he obtained a presentation 
to the living of Kilmany, in Fifeshire. While there, he continued 
to prosecute his scientific studies; and when the chair of mathe¬ 
matics in the University of Edinburgh became vacant by the 
translation of Professor Playfair to the chair of natural philoso¬ 
phy, he was one of the many candidates who competed with the 
late Sir John Leslie for the vacant honour. He withdrew, 
however, at an early stage of the protracted contest which 
ensued. At this period the French war was raging, and Chal¬ 
mers produced a volume on “ The Extent and Stability of the 


* From “The Britannia. 1 



THOMAS CHALMERS. 


595 


National Resources.” It was not reprinted in his collected works, 
afterwards published in twenty-five volumes. For some years 
he remained at Kilmany, enjoying little more than provincial 
reputation, till the publication of some isolated sermons, and his 
contribution of the article “Christianity” to the “Edinburgh 
Encylopaedia,” edited by Sir D. Brewster, all of which were 
marked by evangelism of tone, and expressed in a style of rugged 
and original grandeur. 

The following anecdote of his first essay as a preacher before 
a metropolitan congregation is told by a morning paper:—“In 
1814, he went to Edinburgh on private business, and having 
been requested to call on one of the city ministers, with a view 
to his preaching for him that day, he was disappointed to find 
that the reverend gentleman intended to preach for himself; 
but Mr. Fleming, for that was his name, gave him a note to 
Mr. Jones, of Lady Glenorchy’s chapel, who was then in delicate 
health and in want of supply. Mr. Chalmers hurried to the 
chapel on Sunday morning, got into it as Mr. Jones left the 
vestry, and was about to ascend the pulpit, and with more zeal 
than discretion walked straight up to him at the foot of the 
pulpit stairs, and seizing him by the tails of his coat, held him 
fast by one hand while he presented the note with the other. 
Mr. Jones, on seeing the tenor of the note, withdrew to the 
vestry, beckoning Chalmers to follow, and there placing on his 
shoulders his own gown, and putting round his neck his own 
bands, told him to ‘ mount the pulpit and preach like a man of 
God.’ Chalmers took for his text the passage in John where 
Christ says, ‘ If thou hadst known who it was that said, Give 
me to drink, thou wouldst have asked, and he would have given 
thee living watersfrom which he delivered a sermon so power¬ 
ful and impressive, that from that day forward he was set down 
as the giant of the age.” 

In 1815, he got a call to the Tron Church of Glasgow, which 
he accepted, and soon after was ordained in that new and ex¬ 
tensive field of labour. He quickly proved himself equal to 
this larger trust, and by his indefatigable activity he did much 
for the spread of religion, the elevation of the poor, and 
social improvement in Glasgow. In 1810, Mr. Chalmers was 
translated to the new church and parish of St. John, where he 
pursued his course of social regeneration with increasing success; 


596 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


but in 1823, the chair of moral philosophy in St. Andrew’s 
having become vacant, he was unexpectedly elected to fill it, 
and soon raised the department of moral philosophy to a high 
eminence in the curriculum of that institution. From the time 
that he preached a sermon before the royal commissioner, at 
the meeting of the General Assembly in Edinburgh in 1816, 
the popular effect of which was great, he was repeatedly offered 
the pastorship of one or other of the Edinburgh churches, but, 
conceiving that his talents and acquirements were such as 
qualified him better for teaching than preaching, he refused 
them all. A course of astronomical sermons, also preached in 
Edinburgh, contributed much to establish his fame, and he 
became so much a favourite with the public wherever he ap¬ 
peared thereafter, that, to use his own words, he felt the burden 
of “a popularity of stare and pressure and animal heat.” This 
remark had reference more particularly to some of his appear¬ 
ances in London, where Canning, Lord Castlereagh, Lord Eldon, 
the Duke of Sussex, with several branches of the royal family, 
and many others, elbowed their way into crowded churches to 
hear him, and were impressed, to use the words of Foster, with 
that eloquence which “ strikes on your mind with irresistible 
force, and leaves you not the possibility of asking or thinking 
whether it be eloquence;” or, to adopt Lord Jeffrey’s still more 
characteristic description, “ He could not say what it was, but 
there was something altogether remarkable about the man. The 
effects produced by his eloquence reminded him more of what 
he had read of Cicero and Demosthenes than any thing he had 
ever heard.” 

In 1828, the chair of divinity in Edinburgh became vacant, 
and the magistrates and town council, being the patrons, unani¬ 
mously elected Dr. Chalmers to the office. Here he had reached 
the highest object of his ambition, and devoted himself so 
assiduously to the duties of his appointment that his students 
increased in number to a very inconvenient extent. For four 
years he pursued his course in this chair with comparative ab¬ 
straction from public affairs; but in 1832, a variety of circum¬ 
stances combined to bring him on the stage of public life, where, 
as the leader of the evangelical party in the church, he com¬ 
menced a struggle for church extension, which ended in the 
disruption of 1843, and the establishment of the Free Church. 


THOMAS CHALMERS. 


597 

No sooner had the doctor set himself to work out his great 
problem of church establishments, being the emanation from 
which Christianity might by an aggressive movement take 
possession of the strongholds of ignorance and vice, while 
dissent as an attractive institution would draw off some of those 
already religiously disposed, than he felt the dissenters more 
difficult to manage than he had expected, and the government 
less willing to build new churches, and give the ecclesiastical 
courts absolute power in the management of them, than he had 
been led to expect. But the great majority of the people of 
Scotland, although they could not agree to many of Dr. Chal¬ 
mers’s notions of ecclesiastical government, yet sjnmpathized with 
him in his non-intrusion doctrines, and backed him up in his 
efforts to retain for all the male communicants of the church, 
above twenty-one years of age, a right to a positive as well as 
a negative voice in the election of ministers. The doctor, in 
obedience to his convictions of duty, first proposed and carried 
in the Assembly an act called “ The Veto Act,” which professedly 
gave to male communicants in churches the power to say “ No” 
when a patron presented a licentiate to a vacant charge, assign¬ 
ing no reasons for the negation. The well-known Auchterarder 
case arose out of this act, and the House of Lords having de¬ 
cided that the Church of Scotland had thus overreached herself, 
an appeal on popular grounds was made to the Commons, but 
without effect. The Rev. Doctor now counselled a secession 
from the establishment, and on the 18th of May, 1843, no fewer 
than 474 ministers left the church. 

The New Assembly was opened by Dr. Chalmers on the even¬ 
ing of that day, and henceforward he threw himself heart and 
soul into the schemes of the Free Church. His last effort was 
to obtain sufficient funds for the erection of a college ai*d uni¬ 
versity buildings, in the final act of which he was engaged, 
previous to the building being commenced, when he was struck 
down, in the sixty-seventh year of his age. 

Dr. Chalmers held both the degrees of D. D. and LL. D.; 
and was the first Presbyterian minister who obtained an honorary 
degree from the University of Cambridge; and one of the few 
Scotchmen who have been elected a corresponding member of 
the Institute of France. His collected works fill twenty-five 
duodecimo volumes. 


598 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ELIZABETH FRY. 



LIZABETH FRY was the third daughter of 
the late John Gurney of Earlham Hall, near 
Norwich. When a child, she was remarkable 
for the strength of her affections, and the 
vivacity of her mind, and early learned the 
lesson of enhancing the pleasure and happi¬ 
ness, and soothing the cares and sorrows of 
all around her. As she grew up, philanthropy 
became a marked and settled feature in her 
character, and she took great delight in forming 
and superintending a school on her father’s pre¬ 
mises, for poor children. The effect which her gentle 
authority and kind instructions produced, in these 
objects of her care, was indicative of that remarkable 
gift of influencing others for good, which was so distin¬ 
guishing a feature in her character in after-life. 

Notwithstanding this and some similar pursuits, she was in 
no small degree attached to the vain pleasures of the world, and 
was herself peculiarly attractive to such as were making those 
pleasures their object. But infinitely higher and better things 
awaited her. In consequence of a complaint which appeared 
to be of a serious character, the instability of all temporal things 
became, unexpectedly, matter of personal experience; and soon 
afterwards, under the searching yet persuasive ministry of the 
late William Savery, she became deeply serious. Her affections 
were now directed into the holiest channel; the love of the 
world gave way to the love of Christ: and she evinced the 
reality of her change, by becoming a consistent member of 
the Society of Friends. 

This change, however, was far from disqualifying her for those 
social endearments which a widowed father and ten beloved 
brothers and sisters claimed at her hands. On the contrary, 


ELIZABETH FRY. 


599 

she became more than ever the joy and comfort of the home 
circle, until the year 1800; when at the age of twenty she 
married Joseph Fry of London, and settled in the heart of that 
metropolis. Here she became the mother of a numerous young 
family, over whom she exerted the tenderest maternal care; 
yet her domestic relations did not prevent her labouring with 
constant zeal and assiduity for the benefit of her fellow-creatures. 
The poor found in her an unfailing friend, and numerous indeed 
were the instances in which cases of distress were first personally 
examined by her, and afterwards effectually relieved. She was 
eyes to the blind, and feet to the lame, and the cause which she 
knew not , she searched out. 

Deeply impressed with a sense of the incomparable value of 
that grace, of which she was herself so large a partaker, she 
found it to be her indispensable duty to declare to others what 
God had done for her soul, and to invite her fellow-men to 
come, taste, and see for themselves, how good the Lord is. 
The sweetness and liveliness of her communications, the clear¬ 
ness and force of her Christian doctrine, and the singular soft¬ 
ness, power, and melody of her voice, can never be forgotten 
by those who have heard her, whether in public or private. 

She was often engaged in gospel missions, to other parts of 
England, and subsequently, to a large extent, in Scotland, 
Ireland, and on the continent of Europe; in the course of which, 
as well as at other times, she found abundant opportunities of 
putting forth her energies in the subordinate yet highly im¬ 
portant character of a Christian philanthropist. She visited 
hospitals, prisons, and lunatic asylums, and often addressed the 
inmates of these and other institutions, in a manner which was 
most remarkably adapted to the state of her hearers. Well did 
she know, in dependence on Divine influence, how to find her 
way to the heart and understanding of the child at school, the 
sufferer on a sick-bed, the corrupt and hardened criminal, and 
even the wild and wandering maniac; and thousands, both in 
her native land and in foreign countries, have risen up around 
her, and “called her blessed in the name of the Lord.” 

The leading object, however, of her benevolent exertions, was 
the melioration of prisons. Her long and persevering attention 
to this object, which continued to be dear to her until her end 
came, commenced with a circumstance, which is already well 


600 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


known to the public, both at home and abroad. At an early 
period of her life in London, she was informed of the terrible 
condition of the female prisoners in Newgate. The part of the 
prison allotted to them was a scene of the wildest disorder. 
Swearing, drinking, gambling, and fighting were their only em¬ 
ployments; filth and corruption prevailed on every side. Not¬ 
withstanding the warnings of the turnkeys, that her purse and 
watch, and even her life, would be endangered, she resolved to 
go in without any protection, and to face this disorganized 
multitude. After being locked up with them, she addressed 
them with her usual dignity, power, and gentleness; soon calmed 
their fury, and fixed their attention, and proposed to them a 
variety of rules for the regulation of their conduct, to which, 
after her kind and lucid explanations, they all gave a hearty con¬ 
sent. Her visits were repeated again and again; and with the 
assistance of a committee of ladies, which she had formed for 
the purpose, she soon brought her rules to bear upon the poor 
degraded criminals. Within a very short time the whole scene 
was marvellously changed. Like the maniac of Genesareth, 
from whom the legion of devils had been cast out, these once 
wild and wretched creatures were seen neatly clothed, busily 
employed, arranged under the care of monitors, with a matron 
at the head of them, and, comparatively speaking, in their right 
mind. In carrying on her measures of reform she was gene¬ 
rously supported, not only by the city authorities, but by Lord 
Sidmouth, the secretary of state for the home department, and 
his successors without exception. 

The attention of Elizabeth Fry, however, and of the other 
ladies, whom she had formed into a visiting committee, was by 
no means confined to Newgate. The female criminals in some 
other prisons of the metropolis soon came under their care, and 
after the successful formation of the “British Ladies Society, 
for the reformation of female prisoners,” (which has now con* 
tinued its useful efforts and interesting annual meetings for more 
than twenty years,) a similar care was extended, by means of 
associated committees, to most of the principal prisons in Great 
Britain and Ireland. Subsequently the plans of Elizabeth Fry 
were adopted (chiefly in consequence of her own influence and 
correspondence) in many of the prisons of France, Holland, 
Denmark, Prussia, &c.; and have been acted on with much 


ELIZABETH FRY. 


601 


success at Philadelphia, and elsewhere in the United States. 
The great object of the British Society was to place the female 
inmates of these several prisons under the care of matrons and 
other officers of their own sex; and to arrange a plan for their 
being constantly visited and superintended by benevolent ladies. 

Numerous and satisfactory were the instances of reform 
which took place under the immediate notice of Elizabeth Fry; 
but here it ought to be emphatically remarked, that she and her 
associates uniformly held up to view, that Christianity, in its 
practical and vital power, was the only true source of a radical 
renovation of character. Thus, while they ever insisted on 
cleanliness, industry, and wholesome order and classification, 
their main dependence (under the blessing of Providence) was 
on the reading of the Holy Scriptures, and on kind, judicious, 
persevering religious instruction. Elizabeth Fry did much to 
promote her great object, by the publication of a simple yet 
forcible pamphlet, explanatory of her views of a right prison 
discipline for females, and of the true principles of punishment 
in general. With punishment she would invariably connect a 
plan for reform and restoration; and she regarded the penalty 
of death with strong disapprobation. Often had she visited the 
cells of condemned criminals, on the day or night preceding 
their execution; often had she marked the agony of some and 
the obduracy of others; often had she traced the hardening 
effect of such punishments on the fellow-prisoners of the suf¬ 
ferers, as well as on the lower orders of the public in general. 
She was firmly convinced that such awful inflictions were 
opposed alike to an enlightened expediency and to sound Chris¬ 
tian principle, and cordially did she unite with her brothers-in-law, 
Fowell Buxton and Samuel Hoare, and other well-known friends 
of humanity, in bearing her testimony against them with persons 
in authority, and in taking every means in her power for 
hastening their abolition. 

It was a remarkable evidence of the confidence which suc¬ 
cessive governments reposed in her and her associates, that the 
convict ships for females about to be transported to New South 
Wales were placed under their especial care and superintendence. 
This was a most important part of their service, and the success 
of the admirable regulations which they introduced into these 
vessels, in order to insure the maintenance of a truly Christian 
76 3E 


602 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


order during the voyage, was frequently acknowledged by the 
colonial authorities. 

Elizabeth Fry visited Scotland and Ireland in 1818 and 
1827, respectively, and there her exertions in forming District 
Societies, on behalf of the slave, in the Bible Society, and in 
the formation of libraries for the use of the Coast Guards, were 
of great importance. 

The law of love, which might be said to be ever on her lips, 
was deeply engraven on her heart, and her charity, in the best 
and most comprehensive sense of the term, flowed freely forth 
towards her fellow-men of every class, of every condition. 
Thus she won her way with a peculiar grace, and almost uni¬ 
formly obtained her object. There was, however, another 
quality, which powerfully tended to this result—patient and 
indomitable perseverance. She was not one of those who 
warmly embrace a philanthropic pursuit, and then as easily for¬ 
sake it. Month after month, and year after year, she laboured 
in any plan of mercy which she thought it her duty to under¬ 
take—and never forsook it in heart and feeling, even when 
health failed her, or other circumstances not under her control 
closed the door, for a time, on her personal exertions. This 
perseverance was combined with a peculiar versatility and 
readiness in seizing on every passing occasion, and converting 
it into an opportunity of usefulness. She was not only always 
willing, but always prepared, always ready (by a kind of mental 
sleight of hand) to do good, be it ever so little, to a child, a 
servant, a waiter at an inn, a friend, a neighbour, a stranger. 

There can, indeed, be no doubt that her natural endowments 
were peculiarly fitted, under the sanctifying influence of Divine 
grace, to her arduous vocations in life; but it was this grace— 
or in other words it was the anointing of the Spirit of the Lord , 
which was in fact her main qualification for every service in the 
gospel—for every labour of Christian love. This it was which 
imparted a heavenly loveliness to her countenance, brightness 
and clearness to her words, a sacred melody, in times of religious 
solemnity, to her voice, and a strength and facility to her 
actions. “ C’est le don de Dieuf cried a German prince, who 
interpreted for her, while she was addressing a large company 
of orphans in a foreign land. It was, indeed, the gift of (fod , 
supernaturally bestowed from the fountain of his grace, by which 


ELIZABETH FRY. 


603 


she was enabled so to move, speak, and act in his service, and 
by which her natural faculties—his gifts by creation—were 
purified, enlarged, and directed. 

No one could more fully enter than she habitually did, into 
the force and meaning of the apostle’s words, “ I know that in 
we, that is to say, in my flesh, there dwelleth no good thing 
no one could more readily or rightly answer his question, “What 
hast thou, that thou hast not received?” and from her inmost 
heart could she adopt the prayer of the psalmist, “Not unto us, 
0 Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory.” 

During her latter years, she repeatedly visited the continent 
of Europe, being accompanied by her husband and two of her 
brothers in succession; and on one journey of considerable 
length, her party was joined by her firm friend and helper, the 
late William Allen. In the course of her travels in France, 
Holland, Denmark, Prussia, and other parts of Germany, she 
found an ample scope for her Christian and benevolent exer¬ 
tions. Numerous were the institutions of various kinds which 
she carefully inspected, and far too many to specify were the 
friendships which she formed with the better part of mankind, 
in the countries which she visited. 

One example may illustrate the effect of her*Christian in¬ 
fluence. On visiting one of the state prisons in the kingdom 
of——, in 1839, she found many hundred convicts working in 
chains, sorely burdened and oppressed. In unison with William 
Allen, she pressed the case, in the absence of the king, on the 
attention of the queen and crown prince. Soon afterwards the 
queen was seized by her mortal illness, but did not depart from 
this world, without obtaining the kind promise of her royal 
consort, that Elizabeth Fry’s recommendations respecting the 
prisons should be at once adopted. When the same prison was 
again visited by her in 1841, not a chain was to be seen on any 
of the criminals. They were working with comparative ease 
and freedom; not one of them, as the governor declared, had 
made his escape; and great and general was the joy with which 
they received and welcomed their benefactress. 

On several occasions, during her continental journeys, when 
in the presence of persons in authority, Elizabeth Fry was a 
warm and bold advocate for religious liberty. She was greatly 
afflicted by witnessing the persecutions which of late years (as 


604 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


well as formerly) have disgraced even Protestant kingdoms in 
Europe, as well as many of the small republics; and her appeals 
on the subject were honest, forcible, and to a considerable 
degree, successful. 

In several of the royal persons with whom she communicated, 
she met with truly kindred hearts, and it is not too much to 
assert, that some of them were united to her in the bond not 
only of warm and constant friendship, but of Christian fellow¬ 
ship. When the King of Prussia was in England, he made a 
point of visiting her at her own abode, on which occasion she 
had the pleasure of presenting to him her children, and children’s 
children, a goodly company, between thirty and forty in number! 
She was also gratified by receiving a most affectionate and 
sympathizing letter from him in his own hand, within a few 
weeks of her death. The interest felt about her on the conti¬ 
nent of Europe, as well as in the United States of America, was 
indeed as warm, and nearly as general, as in her own country. 

After all, however, those loved her the best, who knew her 
the most in private life. Her love, which flowed so freely 
towards mankind in general, assumed a concentrated form 
towards the individuals of her own immediate circle. There 
was not one of them who did not live in her remembrance; not 
one who could not acknowledge her as an especial friend—a 
helper and sustainer in life. She was an ardent lover of the 
beauties of nature, and observed them with delight, in their 
smaller as well as larger features. A shell by the sea-side, a 
feather, or a flower, would fill her heart with joy, and tune her 
tongue to praise, while she gazed on it as an evidence of Divine 
wisdom, skill, and goodness. It was, indeed, a remarkable fea¬ 
ture in her character, that she was as complete in the little as 
in the great things of life—as successful in matters of a sub¬ 
ordinate nature, as in those of higher moment. 

Those who are accustomed to observe the ways of Divine 
mercy and wisdom, will not be surprised that so beloved, so 
popular a being, should experience the full force of the Scripture 
declaration—“ Whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth.” Many 
and varied were her tribulations in the course of her pilgrimage; 
and it was through no light measure of affliction that she was 
prepared for her fulness of sympathy with the sufferings of 
others. A delicate constitution, and many of the visitations of 


ELIZABETH FRY. 


605 


sickness, the unexpected death of some of her beloved children 
and grandchildren, as well as the loss of other near relations 
and connections, and some unexpected adverse circumstances, 
were among the close trials of faith and patience, with which 
her heavenly Father saw fit to prove her in this valley of tears. 
And, indeed, they served her purpose, for she was preserved in 
deep humility and in true tenderness of spirit before the Lord, 
under whose holy hand she quietly bowed in resignation of soul. 
She knew what it was to mourn and weep, but she never de¬ 
spaired. She was one who could truly sing the song of Habak- 
kuk:—“ Although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall 
fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the 
fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the 
fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls; yet I will rejoice 
in the Lord, and joy in the God of my salvation.” 

In the summer of 1843, she spent a few weeks in Paris, for 
the last time. Never, perhaps, did she manifest a greater 
brightness than during that period. Her numerous friends (of 
various classes) flocked around her with peculiar pleasure, and 
lively and precious indeed was her testimony among them, to 
the truth as it is in Jesus, and to its practical importance and 
efficacy. This was her last effort of the kind. Soon after her 
return home, her health was evidently enfeebled, and towards 
the close of that year, she became so alarmingly ill that the 
solicitude of her own family, and the multitudes who loved her 
and knew her value, was painfully awakened. 

Although she continued very infirm in body, the sufferings 
which she had endured, from a painful irritation of the nerves, 
and spasms, gradually abated. She was again enabled, to a 
certain extent, and with occasional relapses, to enjoy the com¬ 
pany of her friends; again united with them in the public 
worship of God; again cheered and comforted the family circle; 
again laboured, as far as health would permit, for the benefit 
of her fellow-men. It was a joy and a comfort to many that 
she was enabled to attend two of the sittings of the last yearly 
meeting, and the last annual meeting of the British Ladies’ 
Society, on which several occasions she addressed the company 
present, with all her usual sweetness, love, and power. 

In July, 1845, she went with her husband and family, for 
change of air and scene, to Ramsgate, where she was sur- 

3 e 2 


606 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


rounded by several members of her family, and took peculiar 
pleasure in the company of some of her beloved grandchildren, 
who had lately lost an invaluable father. But she was far from 
forgetting to be useful to others beyond her own circle. Re¬ 
peatedly was she engaged in acceptable religious service at a 
Friends’ meeting in a neighbouring village; and she took great 
pains in disseminating Bibles and tracts among the crews of 
foreign and other vessels, which frequented the harbour. “We 
must work while it is to-day,” said she, “however low the ser¬ 
vice we may be called to. I desire, through the help that may 
be granted me, to do it to the end adding, “‘Let us sow 
beside all watersI so greatly feel the importance of that text, 
‘ In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not 
thine hand, for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either 
this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good.’ ” While 
such was her earnest desire, she placed no dependence for sal¬ 
vation on any works of righteousness which she had done, or 
could do; but only on the fulness and freeness of the pardoning 
love of God in Christ Jesus—the one great sacrifice for sin, her 
sure and certain hope of eternal glory. 

In the meanwhile there was a marked sweetness and loveli¬ 
ness in her conversation and demeanour, and a peculiar and 
increasing seriousness in her state of mind—a longing for a 
glorious eternity—which seemed to denote that she was rapidly 
ripening for a holier and brighter scene, a better and enduring 
inheritance. Speaking of her late afflictions, in a note to one 
of her brothers, she acknowledged that she did not count them 
strange, as though some strange thing had happened unto her, 
but rather rejoiced in being made a partaker in the sufferings 
of Christ, that when his glory should be revealed, she might be 

glad also with exceeding joy. “Ah, dearest-,” she added, 

“may we, through our Lord’s love and mercy, eventually thus 
rejoice with him in glory, rest and peace, when this passing 
scene shall close upon our view!” Her hour was indeed nearly 
come. 

In the afternoon of the 11th September, 1845, after a day or 
two of considerable suffering and debility, she was suddenly at¬ 
tacked with pressure on the brain, and while sinking under the 
stroke, was heard to exclaim,« 0 my dear Lord, keep and help thy 
servant!” She soon fell into a deep slumber, and became totally 



ELIZABETH FRY. 


607 


unconscious ; which state, notwithstanding some severe convul¬ 
sions, continued almost without intermission, until, on the morning 
of the 13th, she quietly drew her last breath. On one occasion, 
however, she woke up for a few moments and said to a faithful 
attendant who was beside her bed, “ This is a strife , but I am 
safe.” Safe she then was, doubtless, in the holy bands of the 
Lord, who was with her in the valley of the shadow of death. 
Safe she now is for ever, as we reverently yet firmly believe, in 
the bosom of that adorable Redeemer, whom she ardently loved 
and faithfully followed. 

Although she was scarcely to be numbered with the aged, 
hers was a long life in the service of her God and Saviour. 
She died in her sixty-sixth year.* 


* From “The Friend,” Philadelphia, September, 1845. 



608 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ROBERT HALL. 



EN of great talent are said seldom to have 
clever sons; but to this rule the present in¬ 
stance furnishes an exception. The father of 
Robert Hall was a distinguished minister of 
the Baptist persuasion at Arnsby, a small 
village near Leicester; and the more than 
ordinary resemblance between them, both in 
the conformation of the head and features, and 
the order of their mental faculties, might afford 
some assistance to the dubious in the verification 
of physiognomical science. Robert (born at Arnsby 
May 2,1764) was the youngest of fourteen children, 
and, in infancy, the feeblest, though afterwards his 
® frame and constitution bordered on the athletic. He 
was once given up for dead in the arms of his nurse; 
and it was long after the average time for children before 
he could walk or talk. In the former faculty he was never a 
proficient—in the latter he soon became remarkable. Even at 
a very early period, as we have been informed by those who 
had the means of knowing, he would frequently entertain the 
haymakers in the hours of toil, and during their meals, by a 
conversation rich in sensible observations and sportive sallies, 
which secured their admiration and love. Happily the pre¬ 
cocity of his talent was exempt from the usual fatality of 
premature extinction. Even at nine years of age he could not 
be restricted to the narrow limits of village school instruction, 
but had read and reflected on Butler’s Analogy, and Jonathan 
Edwards’ Treatises on the Affections and the Will. This meta¬ 
physical bias he himself attributed to an intimate acquaint¬ 
ance with an humble tailor at Arnsby, whom he represent¬ 
ed as a very well-informed, acute man. From his character 
in after-life, it would rather appear that the dialectical skill 



ROBERT HALL. 


609 


and tendencies were in the child, for whom it was sufficient to 
find a willing listener in the tailor; for it is often characteristic 
of great and generous minds, to attribute to others as native 
excellence what in fact is only seen as reflections of their own. 

His first tutor informed his father, when his son was only 
eleven years of age, that he was unable farther to instruct his 
pupil; and accordingly, after a short interval, he was taken to 
the hoarding-school of the Rev. John Ryland of Northampton, 
with whom he remained only a year and a half. The genius of 
Ryland (the father of the late Dr. Ryland) was of a kind well 
calculated to stimulate his son; nor was it unallied to it in hold 
conception and eccentricity. In the latter respect, however, 
his tutor was a meteor of wilder range and fiercer blaze. 

In September, 1778, he became a member of tis father’s 
church, and having given satisfactory proofs of piety and of 
predilection for the Christian ministry, he was soon after sent 
to the Bristol Academy, whence, after three years, he was 
transferred to King’s College, Aberdeen. While at Bristol he 
was highly appreciated both as a student and a speaker. What 
he did and wrote uniformly bore the stamp of originality; and 
his occasional efforts at Arnsby, Clipstone, and Kettering,, 
during the vacations, excited great interest and won him much 
admiration. 

During his college pursuits at Aberdeen, the professors of 
that period gave the strongest testimonies to his proficiency in 
the various branches of classical, mathematical, and philosophical 
study. At the close of his fourth year, he delivered a Greek 
oration, which obtained for him much local celebrity, and this 
was followed with the honorary degree of Master of Arts. At 
Aberdeen he became associated, as well in intellectual pursuits 
as in close friendship, with Sir James Mackintosh. These emi¬ 
nent men ever after retained for each other sentiments of the 
highest consideration and attachment. They were so marked 
at college for their unanimity and attainments, that their class- 
fellows would often point to them, and say, ‘‘There go Plato 
and Herodotus.” 

We have not in the present instance to contemplate genius 
struggling amidst counter-working agencies, and making its way 
notwithstanding the difficulties; but rather the happy results 
of a combination of favourable circumstances eliciting much and 
77 


610 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


perfecting its powers. That Hall would have surmounted ob¬ 
stacles of no ordinary kind cannot be questioned; but he was 
not called to the trial. Under the paternal roof he had the 
advantage of talent and experienced wisdom to guide his early 
way; at the boarding-school he was still powerfully impelled 
forward by kindred genius and an exalted moral influence; in 
the Bristol Institution he enjoyed the tutorship of Hugh and 
Caleb Evans, both of them distinguished in their day; at Aber¬ 
deen his mental habits were strengthened by the companionship 
of Mackintosh. Having imbibed a taste for literature and a 
turn for metaphysical inquiries in these several schools of in¬ 
struction, not to forget the books he first read, and the inter¬ 
course he held with the celebrated tailor at Arnsby, he was 
providentially preparing for that literary and public career to 
which he was destined, and which he was by nature adapted to 
occupy. The bracing effect of that rivalship, and of those 
friendly discussions in which he and Sir James were wont daily 
to engage, in their wanderings by the shore or in the fields, 
was, to one of his order, like the tightening of the strings of a 
musical instrument, which, when wound up to the right pitch, 
was hereafter to pour forth strains of powerful and enchanting 
melody. Sir James declared of himself,-in a letter to Hall, at 
.a distant period, that “ on the most impartial survey of his early 
life, he could see nothing which so much tended to excite and 
invigorate the understanding, to direct it towards high, and 
perhaps scarcely accessible objects, as his intimacy with his 
honoured friend.” Examples of this description have a strong 
relation to the question, whether genius be an innate and 
original constituent of the mind, or whether it be only the 
calling forth, by means of proper cultivation, the rudiments of 
thought, or the seminal principles of mental superiority, which 
may be supposed inherent in all rational natures. It is hard 
to conceive, however, amidst innumerable failures, that mere 
diligence, attended by whatever advantages, would work out 
such stupendous results. 

At the close of 1783, Mr. Hall received an invitation to become 
assistant pastor with Dr. Caleb Evans, at Broadmead, Bristol. 
.It was agreed, however, that he should return to his studies in 
Scotland, during the college session of 1784-5. On settling at 
Bristol, his preaching elevated him to the height of popularity, 


ROBERT HALL. 


611 


being the evident product of a mind of extraordinary vigour and 
cultivation; yet it was deficient in evangelical richness—a cir¬ 
cumstance which none afterwards so deeply deplored as himself. 

In August, 1785, he was appointed classical tutor in the 
Bristol Academy, a situation which he held with great reputation 
for more than five years. A painful misunderstanding with 
Dr. Evans, and some differences of sentiment with the church, 
at length facilitated his removal to another sphere of labour. 
He was invited to succeed Robert Robinson at Cambridge, and 
went thither in July, 1791. From that period, we are informed 
by one of his hearers, the congregation gradually increased, till 
in a few years the enlargement of the place of worship became 
necessary. Members of the university frequently, and in con¬ 
siderable numbers, attended in the afternoons on his preaching. 
Several senators, as well as clergymen of the Established 
Church, received their first lessons in eloquence from his lips. 

The progress of the French Revolution, which shook the very 
foundations of society in England, by splitting it into political 
divisions of opinion, did not more violently agitate any place 
in the kingdom than Cambridge, which was prolific in contro¬ 
versial pamphlets and social conflicts. Hall’s ardent mind 
became inflamed, and, urged on by a circle of intelligent and 
active friends, he was induced to resist his natural disinclination 
to writing, and produced a large pamphlet, under the title of 
“An Apology for the Freedom of the Press,” which, though 
composed with rapidity, was full of power, and secured for him 
much distinction as an author. This early essay is characterized 
by a manly avowal of liberal principles, communicated in lan¬ 
guage at once forcible and beautiful, thundering with energy, 
and lightening with flashes of brilliant eloquence. 

The next publication laid the basis of his lasting celebrity as 
an author—his discourse on “Modern Infidelity.” Inde¬ 
pendently of its intrinsic excellence, there were several circum¬ 
stances which contributed to its popularity. It was remarkably 
well-tamed, and answered a pressing necessity. Between the 
years 1795 and 1799, many debating societies were formed in 
London, to which the lower classes were allured on the Sunday 
evenings, under various pretences, and which became in a short 
time the nurseries of infidelity. The leaven of impiety spread, 
and he had reason to fear that not only was the country be- 


612 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


coming infected, but that the young among his own people were 
tending to skepticism. This grieved his pious spirit, and roused 
into exertion his utmost talent. He first delivered this sermon 
at Bristol in 1800, and then at Cambridge. His own view of 
the case is thus expressed in a preface:— 

« To obliterate the sense of Deity, of moral sanctions, and a 
future world; and by these means to prepare the way for the 
total subversion of every institution, both social and religious, 
which men have been hitherto accustomed to revere, is evidently 
the principal object of modern skeptics—the first sophists who 
have avowed an attempt to govern the world without inculcating 
the persuasion of a superior power.” 

He intimates that it is the immaculate holiness of the Chris¬ 
tian revelation which is precisely what renders it disgusting to 
men who are determined, at all events, to retain their vices. 

“The dominion of Christianity being, in the very essence 
of it, the dominion of virtue, we need look no further for the 
sources of hostility in any who oppose it, than their attachment 
to vice and disorder. This view of the controversy, if it be just, 
demonstrates its supreme importance, and furnishes the strongest 
plea with every one with whom it is not a matter of indifference 
whether vice or virtue, delusion or truth, govern the world, to 
exert his talents, in whatever proportion they are possessed, 
in contending earnestly for the faith once delivered to the 
saints .” 

Another circumstance which contributed to the popularity of 
this discourse was the extreme virulence of an attack in the 
“ Cambridge Intelligencer,” in several letters by Mr. Flower its 
editor, which were written, as was generally believed, in resent¬ 
ment for the friendly advice of Mr. Hall to alter the tone of his 
political disquisitions. About the same time, another attack 
of equal virulence was made by Mr. Anthony Robinson, in a 
separate pamphlet. On the other hand, it was lauded by the 
most distinguished members of the university, celebrated by Dr. 
Parr in his “ Spital Sermon,” extolled by individuals of literary 
eminence, and especially praised by Sir James Mackintosh in 
the Monthly Review, and privately circulated by him, to some 
extent, among his parliamentary friends. All this, however, 
would have been unavailing to give it permanent influence, and 
its author superior fame, had it not possessed extraordinary 


ROBERT HALL. 


613 


merits. In truth it can never be read without profit, and can 
never perish while the language lasts. 

Within a comparatively short period Mr. Hall published two 
other sermons, remarkable also for their display of talent and 
their critical adaptation to the times; namely, “Reflections on 
War,” and “The Sentiments proper to the present Crisis.” 
These will be lasting records of his genius, though the exciting 
occasions of them have passed away. The few other sermons 
from his pen, excepting that on the death of the Princess Char¬ 
lotte, had relation to more private events, though of the deepest 
interest and importance—as “The Discouragements and Sup¬ 
ports of the Christian Minister, a Funeral Sermon for Dr. 
Ryland,” with some others. Besides these, he published many 
miscellaneous pieces, and some controversial writings; but it is 
not our design either to enumerate or analyze his works. There 
is not one of them, even the very earliest, that has not his pe¬ 
culiar stamp, the impress of his original mind; and in general 
they exhibit a remarkable uniformity of excellence, arising, as 
we believe, from the nice balance of his intellectual powers, the 
discriminating accuracy of his taste, and the abundant labor 
limce et mora which he invariably bestowed upon all his pro¬ 
ductions. 

Mr. Hall had always been a great sufferer from a pain in his 
back, which generally compelled him to recline on sofas, benches, 
or two or three chairs united, for hours together in a day. This 
affliction very much increased in 1803, so as frequently to de¬ 
prive him of sleep, and produce very serious depressions of 
spirits. He was advised to reside some miles out of Cambridge, 
and only repair thither when officially required. This plan of 
alleviation was not, however, altogether successful, and the 
mental malady placed him in November, 1804, under the care 
of Dr. Arnold of Leicester. In April, 1805, he was so fully 
restored as to be able to resume his ministerial labours at Cam¬ 
bridge, but he lived nine miles from the town. This procedure 
was injudicious; the seclusion was too entire; and in twelve 
months another eclipse of reason rendered it necessary to obtain 
a second course of medical superintendence at the Fish Ponds, 
near Bristol. It also compelled his resignation of the pastoral 
charge at Cambridge. These severe visitations were instru¬ 
mental in perfecting his religious sentiments and his religious 


614 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


character. His own impression was that he had not undergone 
a thorough renewal of heart till the first of these seizures. We 
should hope it was otherwise, and are disposed to believe that his 
habitual low estimation of himself deceived him on this subject. 

After this second recovery, he resided for some time at En- 
derby, a retired village in the neighbourhood of Leicester. 
While there, the author of the article which is our authority 
saw striking displays of his peculiarities both of body and 
mind. With regard to the former, his temperament was sin¬ 
gularly cold and impenetrable to the elements. While sitting 
together for some hours in a very small parlour, which he had 
heated by a heaped up fire, and filled to suffocation with the 
smoke of his favourite tobacco, he suddenly exclaimed—“ Well, 
sir, perhaps you would like a little air.” Then throwing open 
the window, he deliberately walked round the garden several 
times without his hat, though he was entirely bald, and while 
the keen blast of a November afternoon was cutting the flesh 
like a knife. At an expression of surprise at this endurance 
both of the heat and the cold, he said, “Why, sir, as to the 
weather, I am not at all affected; I could undertake to walk 
both uncovered and barefoot from here to Leicester, (five or six 
miles,) without taking cold. As to the fire, sir, I am very fond 
of it. I should like to have a fire before, and a fire behind, and 
a fire on each side.” Whether the yet unsubsided irritability 
of his mind might not have exercised some peculiar influence 
over the physical nature to produce these phenomena, must be 
left to physiologists to determine; it is certain they existed. 

On the ensuing morning, he referred with great interest and 
emotion to the celebrated article against missions which had 
recently appeared in the j Edinburgh Review , and said that Mr. 
Fuller had very much urged him to undertake a reply.—“With 
some difficulty, I yielded, sir, to the solicitations of such a man, 
and for such a cause. I have, in fact, written about twelve 
pages; I should like your opinion thus far: will you permit me 
to read them to you ?” He did so; and if memory do not 
deceive, the power of the argument, the brilliancy of the wit, 
and the elegance of the diction equalled, if not surpassed, any 
of his compositions. Yet with all characteristic humility he 
said—“I think, however, Andrew Fuller would have succeeded 
better in his way. I wish he had done it himself; but I could 


ROBERT HALL. 


615 


not persuade him. I think I can’t finish it now.” So it proved. 
The document is lost, and probably shared the fate of some of 
the finest productions of his intellect—that of lighting his pipe! 

During his residence at Enderby, Mr. Hall frequently preached 
in the surrounding villages, and occasionally at Harvey Lane, 
Leicester, the scene of Dr. Carey’s former labours. With the 
people of this congregation he ultimately associated himself as 
minister in 1807, and this connection continued unbroken for 
nearly twenty years. These were probably the happiest of his 
life, for in addition to his domestic enjoyments, (he married in 
1808,) the attendance on his ministry increased from three 
hundred to a thousand, with manifest tokens of public useful¬ 
ness. Without abating in his direct pastoral exertions, he was 
excited to increased activity in promoting Bible, Missionary, 
and other important societies. It was here the great luminary 
rose to its meridian splendour, and diffused abroad its most 
benignant radiance. « Churchmen and Dissenters; men of rank 
and influence; individuals in lower stations; men of simple 
piety, and others of deep theological knowledge; men who ad¬ 
mired Christianity as a beautiful system, and those who received 
it into the heart by faith; men in doubt, others involved in un¬ 
belief : all resorted to the place where he was announced as the 
preacher.” During this period, also, were issued several brief 
but beautiful publications. 

On the death of Dr. Byland, he was invited to succeed him 
in the pastoral office at Broadmead, Bristol, to which request, 
after frequent and painful revolutions of feeling, he finally 
yielded, believing that he was providentially called to the change 
of his ministerial sphere. Here he attracted great attention, as 
in other places, though his powers were perhaps a little enfeebled 
by advancing years; while the happy association into which he 
was introduced with ministers and laymen of all denominations, 
and the stimulating effect of those delightful reminiscences 
which sprung up among a few remaining friends of his early life, 
tended to re-excite his energies, and to shed sunshine over the 
descending path to the tomb. He still gladdened society by his 
visits, and pursued his own pleasure and improvement by read¬ 
ing. His favourite classical writers were his frequent resort, 
while his devotional spirit renewed its vigour by enlarged 
draughts at the fountain of inspiration. Of the commentators, 


616 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


Matthew Henry was most prized, and daily read in considerable 
portions. He continued also to practise occasional fasting, 
which he had begun at Leicester, according to his own testi¬ 
mony, with the greatest advantage. His religion seemed to run 
parallel with the increase of his personal sufferings, which were 
progressively severe, especially as he became plethoric, and his 
old complaint in the back strengthened with his decline. A 
temporary absence at Coleford, in the forest of Dean, appeared 
to recruit his health, but the effect was of transient duration. 
He had frequent spasmodic affections of the chest, and immediate 
dissolution was threatened on the 1st of January, 1831, but it 
passed off, leaving apparently on his mind more impressive sen¬ 
timents of the coming eternity. With these, all his subsequent 
public addresses were deeply imbued; till he engaged in his 
last service, which was a church meeting, on the 9th of Feb¬ 
ruary. On the next day, he had just retired to his study to 
prepare his usual monthly sermon, in anticipation of the ap¬ 
proaching Sabbath of communion, when he was seized with the 
first of the series of paroxysms which terminated in his death. 
This solemn event took place on the 21st of February, 1831, at 
the age of sixty-six. 

In some of the more private virtues of life Robert Hall was 
unsurpassed. Of these we do not recollect having seen his 
humanity particularly noticed, though it was in reality a very 
striking feature of his character. It resulted alike from the 
benevolence of his affections and the extreme sensibility of his 
mind. Two specimens of this are in our recollection at this 
moment:—the one in the way of resentment, the other of com¬ 
passion. A certain popular minister in his circle occupied a 
piece of pasture-land attached to his house, in the fence of which 
a poor sheep had entangled its head, having obtruded it between 
the rails, without the power of extricating itself. This man, 
who was excessively choleric, beat the animal until it expired; 
for which barbarity Hall never could forgive him; and no efforts 
at reconciliation, though repeatedly attempted by mutual friends, 
could ever succeed. While the barbarity would doubtless have 
prejudiced most minds, his acute sensibility for the speechless 
sufferer led him to treat it as a kind of personal offence to his 
nature. The other instance was one in which he was endangered 
by the fall of a horse. The friend with whom he was travelling 


ROBERT HALL. 


617 


expressed much anxiety as to any injury he might have sustained, 
but could elicit no other answer to his repeated questions than 

“Poor animal! is he hurt, sir; is he hurt? I hope, sir, the 
poor horse is not hurt.” This was no affectation of kindness; 
he had too much genuine simplicity of character to render that 
possible: it was the outpouring of an exquisite sensibility. 

To the same general principle may be referred his politeness; 
which was not in him an obedience to the conventional laws of 
society, but the dictate of a mind alive to the circumstances of 
others, and a heart full of feeling. He had learned of the 
apostle to be “ courteous,” in the most exalted sense of the 
term; and always repaid the smallest offices of kindness with 
exuberant expressions of gratitude. 

Considerateness was a remarkable trait of his character. In 
fact, it was sometimes almost ludicrously punctilious. Among 
many proofs of this with which the writer who is our authority 
was familiar, he mentions what occurred on one occasion when 
he had accompanied him on a journey to the North. The 
travellers had taken up their abode at an inn, and while dis¬ 
charging the account the next morning, he said, with some 
earnestness—“Pay that man a penny, sir, for me.” The as¬ 
tonishment and the smile may easily be conceived. He per¬ 
sisted ; adding, «I will tell you how it is, sir. I usually burn 
a rushlight, but forgot to mention it, and being late, I did not 
choose to disturb any one. So I burnt out the candle, which 
I am sure was at least worth an extra penny, upon which the 
landlord could not calculate.” This might seem to be a trifling 
incident, but as indicative of character, deserves to be recorded. 
Another of a different kind was connected with it. When 
approaching the town in question, he said—“Now, sir, a very 
excellent Independent minister resides here, but he is poor. 
He cannot afford to entertain us, but we should be pleased with 
his company, and ought, I think, sir, to show him respect. 
Besides, he would be grieved to hear that we had been in town, 
and never thought of seeing him. With your permission, we 
will secure our beds, order what we should like, and then send 
to invite him to sup with us at the inn. And there, sir, it is 
not improbable, some of his friends will have found us out, and 
we will accept any invitation to breakfast in the morning, where 
78 3 f 2 


618 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


the worthy man will, no doubt, be invited to meet us, and thus 
he will be spared, and we shall all be gratified.” 

The humility of Hall has been expatiated upon by all who 
have attempted to describe him. It was, however, humility 
unallied with ridiculous self-depreciation, and totally remote 
from every thing like cringing sycophancy. It cannot be sup¬ 
posed that such a man was insensible to his own mental supe¬ 
riority; and in truth the consciousness of it was at times dis¬ 
played incidentally, but never pompously. Though he would 
in general repudiate applause, yet there were occasions when 
he would receive it with an apparent satisfaction. He would 
frequently inquire of his intimate friends what they thought of 
his discourses immediately after their delivery; but his manner 
of doing so would rather indicate an inward sense of unworthi¬ 
ness and insufficiency, than a desire to obtain approbation. In 
addition to his own experience, the writer has often heard the 
late Mr. William Hollick of Cambridge, state, that he usually 
walked with him to his lodging in St. Andrew Street, on the 
Sunday morning after service; when Mr. Hall scarcely ever 
failed to put the question—“Well, sir, what did you think of 
my sermon?” Mr. Hollick soon discovered, that he almost 
invariably disagreed in opinion; and often expressly put him 
to the test, by veiling his own real sentiments. Thus, if Mr. 
Hollick expressed a high estimate of the discourse, he would 
say, “No, sir, I don’t think you are right. I think nothing of 
it; I was not so much at liberty as I could have wished.” If 
the contrary sentiment were uttered, he would say in a half- 
jesting manner—“Pretty well, sir, I think.” These conversa¬ 
tions evinced considerable sensitiveness; they also showed that 
he had made a tolerable estimate of his own powers; but, con¬ 
nected as they were with evident manifestations of piety, they 
also proved that he was intensely concerned, not so much about 
his personal reputation, as for the moral and spiritual effects of 
his ministry. A little incident that has come to our knowledge 
affords a further display of this part of his character. A brother 
minister had on one occasion heard him preach with peculiar 
satisfaction. A considerable time afterwards he met him ; and 
having a vivid remembrance of the discourse in which he had 
been so interested, took an opportunity of adverting to it in 
terms of ardent eulogy. Instead of receiving this approbation 


ROBERT HALL. 


619 


with a self-sufficient air, he replied—“Yes, sir, yes; the Lard 
was with 1 me on that day.” But whatever he might occasionally 
seem before man, (and then even in his most unbent and joyous 
moments a person must have had a keen eye indeed who could 
have detected the little arts of vanity and self-exaltation,) his 
humility appeared to be perfect before God. The simplicity of 
his expressions, the evident prostration of his spirit, and the 
fervour of his pleadings in prayer, furnished extraordinary 
proofs of this characteristic. 

So habitually devout and vigorous was his mind, that he was 
capable of the most sudden and singular transitions from inter¬ 
course with man to intercourse with Heaven. The following 
is a curious instance of this. Mr. Hall had been indulging in 
that species of innocent merriment and jocularity to which he 
sometimes yielded; and in the midst of a very humorous story, 
the clock struck twelve—in an instant he laid down his pipe, 
exclaiming, “Sir, it is midnight, and we have not had family 
prayer.” The next moment he was on his knees, absolutely 
absorbed in devotion, and pouring forth the most solemn and 
reverential petitions at the footstool of mercy. 

Another instance at once of his religious ardour and filial 
tenderness occurred at Arnsby on a visit. It was related to 
the present writer by one of the witnesses. On his way from 
Leicester he had expatiated on his father’s excellences, and the 
scenes of his earliest days. As soon as he entered the house 
in which his father had resided, he hastened into the parlour, fell 
on his knees, and poured forth the most devout and fervent sup¬ 
plications. The two or three individuals who were near speed¬ 
ily withdrew, that they might not interrupt his feeling. Soon 
afterwards he went into the burial-ground, and dropping on his 
knees at his father’s grave, with his hands extended over the 
monumental stone, and his eyes closed, he offered up an extra¬ 
ordinary series of petitions. Among these he breathed forth 
an impassioned desire to “join the blessed company above; 
and entreated that he might be “ permitted to know his departed 
father in the heavenly world; and that their united prayers, 
often presented on earth, might be then turned into praise, 
while they beheld their ‘Redeemer face to face together.’ ” 

His writings sufficiently attest the liberality of his religious 
views . In some instances, indeed, he has expressed himself in 


620 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


terms which will he deemed severe ; but he was “ a lover of all 
good men,” while he firmly maintained his sentiments as a dis¬ 
senter and a Baptist. He cultivated much intercourse with 
many who differed from him in both respects, and never, it is 
believed, gave. them any real occasion of offence. Sometimes 
he would indulge in a little sarcasm and raillery at their pe¬ 
culiarities; hut his wit was the flash of the innocuous summer 
lightning, attracting rather by its beauty and playfulness, than 
injuring by its stroke. 

He was greatly distinguished for his conversational powers, 
and was generally very communicative. In this respect a 
parallel might he instituted between him and Coleridge, pre¬ 
senting, however, some striking diversities. Coleridge was 
more studied in his conversations; Hall more free and spon¬ 
taneous. Coleridge was frequently involved and metaphysical; 
Hall simple, natural, and intelligible. Coleridge usurped and 
engrossed conversation; Hall never did so voluntarily. Cole¬ 
ridge could and would talk upon any thing; Hall required to 
be more invited and brought out by the remarks or inquiries 
of others. Coleridge was more profound; Hall more brilliant. 
Coleridge did not deal in polished sentences, but would con¬ 
tinue to talk for hours in a plain and careless diction; Hall 
was invariably elegant and classical, commonly vivacious and 
sparkling with wit. Coleridge was sure to be heard; Hall to 
be remembered. Coleridge had the advantage of a more uni¬ 
versal knowledge; Hall of a more unencumbered and clearly 
perceptive intellect. Each was in his day the first of his class, 
rarely equalled, and probably never surpassed. 

The conversations of Robert Hall abounded in wit, fine dis¬ 
criminations of character, and profound estimates of eminent 
authors.* 


* We are indebted for this sketch of Robert Hall to the “North British 
Review.” 



THOMAS CLARKSON. 


621 


THOMAS CLARKSON. 



HOMAS CLARKSON, whose labours for the 
suppression of the slave trade entitle him to 
a place among philanthropists beside Howard 
and Eliot, was born in England, in 1761. 
Originally designed for the ministry, he 
studied at St. John’s College, Cambridge, and 
at an early age gave promise of great talents. 
He several times triumphed in competition for 
college prizes; and in 1785 obtained the first 
prize for a Latin essay on the subject “Is it Just 
to make men Slaves against their Will ?” 

Up to this time Clarkson indulged hopes of enter¬ 
ing the ministry. Providence had appointed him to 
another work. The researches necessary to the com¬ 
position of his essay seem to have left deep impressions 
upon his mind; and thenceforth he directed his atten¬ 
tion to the subject of the amelioration of the African race. In 
1786 he published an “Essay on the Slavery and Commerce of 
the Human Species, particularly the African,” which was a 
translation of his prize paper. It produced a great sensation; 
and reacting through public opinion upon the author, fired him 
with an enthusiasm which, in a less important cause, might have 
been named madness. Although already possessed of deacon’s 
orders, he resigned them, abandoned his former intentions, 
joined Mr. Wilberforce and other philanthropists, and devoted 
every energy of his mind to his new subject. In 1787, a small 
society was formed with a view to the suppression of the slave 
trade; in 1788 appeared his book « On the Impolicy of the 
African Slave Tradein 1789 his «Comparative Efficacy 
of the Regulation or Abolition as applied to the African Slave 
Trade.” 

But his labours were not confined to the pen. Though ex- 



622 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


posed to the scorn of merchants and dealers, he visited Bristol, 
Liverpool and other large cities, with a view to the formation of 
anti-slave-trade societies; he endeavoured to win the co-opera¬ 
tion of Mr. Pitt; he appeared before the privy-council, with a 
box of various articles manufactured in Africa by Africans, in 
order to prove that the free negroes were capable of becoming 
valuable auxiliaries to commerce. In 1791 he published “ Let¬ 
ters on the Slave Trade,” and in 1807, “ Three Letters to the 
Planters and Slave Merchants.” His zeal aroused the exertions 
of many good men in Great Britain and on the Continent; but 
while Pitt remained in power, circumstances prevented any mea¬ 
sure of importance on the subject in parliament. With the 
ministry of Mr. Fox dawned a better day ; and acts of abolition 
were speedily passed by large majorities. 

The great work for which Clarkson had sacrificed and toiled 
so much was now accomplished; and after a warfare of twenty 
years, against prejudice, bigotry, and high-handed iniquity, sup¬ 
ported by the strong arm of power, it is refreshing to see him 
retiring victoriously from the field, and passing in well-deserved 
repose the remainder of his life. His pursuits during this re¬ 
tirement were chiefly literary. His “ Portraiture of Quaker¬ 
ism,” and his “ Life of John Penn ” exhibit the many virtues 
and the few errors of the Friends, with rare historical justice. 
He had found the members of that sect of great assistance to 
him during his contest with the slave dealers. In 1808, ap¬ 
peared his “ History of the Abolition of the Slave Trade,” the 
most valuable perhaps of his works. The labour of love which 
he accomplished, in the face of so many difficulties, forms an 
important era in the history of human advancement. He died 
September 26, 1846. 


THOMAS ARNOLD. 


623 


DR. THOMAS ARNOLD. 



HOMAS ARNOLD, late professor of History 
at Oxford, was born June 13,1795, at West 
Clowes, Isle of Wight. He began his student’s 
course at Warminster, was transferred to Win¬ 
chester, and finally to Corpus Christi College, 
Oxford. The strong home and local attach¬ 
ments, the quick historical fancy and memory, 
the love of poetry, and the remarkable fondness 
for geography, which were such leading qualities 
of his mature mind, all showed themselves in his 
childhood. At Winchester he read and re-read 
with increased avidity Gibbon, Mitford, Russell, and 
Priestley; and though but fourteen years old, devoted 
himself to the extermination of half the Roman history, 
which he verily believed is, “if not totally false, at least 
scandalously exaggerated.” At the time of his entering 
Oxford he is described as a mere boy in appearance as well as 
in age, yet quite equal to take his part in the arguments of the 
common room; fond of conversation on serious matters, vehe¬ 
ment in argument, fearless in advancing his opinions, candid, 
good tempered, and destitute of vanity or conceit. 

Of his college life nothing of much interest is known. After 
leaving Oxford, where he remained nine years, he settled at 
Laleham near Staines, where he devoted himself to teaching 
and improvement in general reading. During this period he 
appears also to have thought much on the subject of religion, 
“ The management of my own mind (he writes to a friend) is a 
thing so difficult and brings me into contact with so much that 
is so strangely mysterious, that I stand at times quite bewildered, 
in a chaos where I can see no light either before or behind. 
How much of this is constitutional and physical I cannot tell, 
perhaps a great deal of it; yet it is surely dangerous to look 



624 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

upon all the struggles of the mind as arising from the state of 
the body or the weather, and so resolve to bestow no more at 
tention upon them.” In this thoughtful but interesting state, 
examining and forming his character, he remained until his 
election to Rugby in 1827. The promotion gave him a super¬ 
intendence of the public school system, then in vogue in Eng¬ 
land ; and to correct its many errors, he applied all his energy 
and talents. His influence in correcting the growing tendency 
to irreligion, which had, during a long period, prevailed in the 
schools, is described by Dr. Moberly, then a stranger to Arnold: 
“ A most singular and striking change has come over our public 
schools, a change too great for any person to appreciate ade¬ 
quately who has not known them in both these times. * * * I 
am sure that to Dr. Arnold’s personal, earnest simplicity of 
purpose, strength of character, power of influence, and piety, 
which none who ever came near him could mistake or question, 
the carrying of this improvement into our schools is mainly 
attributable. He was the first. It soon began to be a matter 
of observation to us that his pupils brought quite a different 
character to Oxford from that which we had known elsewhere ; 
and we looked upon Dr. Arnold as exercising an influence for 
good which had been absolutely unknown to our public schools.” 

His amiable, though decided character, won the affection and 
respect of his pupils. His labours as a teacher and a minister 
were so great that he could devote but two hours to study or 
writing; yet such was his employment of time, that we are 
indebted to the diligent application of those spare hours for his 
edition of Thuycidides, three volumes ^f the Roman history, 
five volumes of sermons, many pamphlets, and an extensive cor¬ 
respondence. The enthusiasm in the cause of virtue, with 
which he inspired his pupils, is deserving of all praise. Their 
characters seemed to grow upon his, while they looked up to 
him as a friend, a teacher, and a father. Yet nothing weak or 
inconsistent, neither vanity nor passion marred the impression 
of his ability, his simple earnestness, his high standard of duty, 
and his devotion to his appointed work. 

In March, 1828, the degree of Bachelor of Divinity had been 
conferred on Arnold; and in December of the same year 
the degree of Doctor of Divinity. He remained at Rugby 
School as head master until 1841, when, on the death of Dr. 


THOMAS ARNOLD. 


625 

Nares, he was appointed Regius Professor of Modern History at 
Oxford. He retained his connection with Rugby, which through 
his exertions was raised, as we have seen, to a high degree of 
eminence. His masterly lectures on History, delivered at Ox¬ 
ford, have been warmly applauded in Europe and America. 
But his course there was but short; on the 12th of June, 1842, 
when within one day of completing his forty-seventh year, a 
spasm of the heart cut short his brilliant career. 

We have mentioned but few of the labours and writings of 
this learned and pious man. In 1835, the office of Fellowship 
in the Senate of the new London University was tendered to 
him, which he accepted, hut withdrew in 1838. In politics he 
was a Whig, yet decided in opposition to radicalism. He was 
an uncompromising opponent to the new Oxford theology, or 
Puseyism. A large portion of his time was devoted to labours 
for the amelioration of the poor, and especially the working 
poor. For this purpose he delivered lectures at the Rugby Me¬ 
chanics Institute, wrote letters to various periodicals, and estab¬ 
lished a newspaper for the lower classes. Vigour of thought, 
clearness of expression, and purity of style characterize his his¬ 
torical writings, and indeed most of his productions, whether 
permanent or temporary. 

The character of Dr. Arnold was rare and remarkable. He 
united the enthusiasm of the child to the stern penetration of the 
statesman. There was a freshness and a playfulness in his domes¬ 
tic and friendly manners, which reminds one of the attachments of 
school girls; and yet even in his laughing conversation he rea¬ 
soned on history and religion, and politics and public improve¬ 
ment, with a sagacity with which few of his day are blessed. In the 
evening he often jogged on foot beside his wife’s pony, chatting 
about Thucydides, Herodotus, and Hannibal; and on his return, 
sat down to write Greek commentaries. Christianity he regard¬ 
ed as the remedy for all the sin and suffering in society; hence- 
he strove to reanimate a moral power in the community, and to 
give to government, as its chief principle, a moral law. To do- 
his duty to mankind,—in his school, his writings, his preaching, 
was his sole ideal of happiness. Literature and literary enjoy¬ 
ments he kept in the back-ground; and he caused his friends 
to regard him li^t as a learned man, but as one wholly absorbed 
in the earnestness of duty. His character, as far as man can; 

7ft 3 G 


626 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


judge, was faultless, and because it was faultless his example has 
come to us, the same. 

An extract from the doctor’s diary, the night before his death, 
cannot but be interesting to all. It is, we believe, his last writ¬ 
ing. “ The day after to-morrow is my birthday, if I am permit¬ 
ted to live to see it, my forty-seventh birthday since my birth. 
How large a portion of my life on earth has already passed! 
And then what is to follow this life ? How visibly my outward 
work seems, contracting and softening away into the gentler em¬ 
ployments of old age. In one sense, how nearly can I now say 
4 Vixi.’ And I thank God that as far as ambition is concerned 
it is, I trust, fully mortified. I have no desire other than to step 
back from my present place in the world, and not to rise to a 
higher. Still there are works which, with God’s permission, I 
would do before the night cometh ; especially that great work, if 
I might be permitted to take part in it. But above all, let me 
mind my own personal work,—to keep myself pure, and zealous, 
and believing, labouring to do God’s will yet not anxious that it 
should be done by me rather than by others, if God disapproves 
of my doing it.” 


THOMAS WILSON. 


627 


THOMAS WILSON. 



ISHOP of Sodor and Man, was born at Burton, 
in Cheshire, at the latter end of 1663. From 
a private school in his native county, he was 
removed to Trinity College, Dublin, where he 
took his degrees in arts, and obtained ordina¬ 
tion. His first pastoral employment appears 
to have been as curate at Winwich, in Lanca¬ 
shire. In 1692, he became chaplain to the Earl 
of Derby, preceptor to that nobleman’s son, and, 
about the same time, master of Latham almshouse. 
In 1697-8, “ he was forced,” to use his own words, 
“ into the bishopric of the Isle of Man,” and had the 
degree of LL. D. conferred upon him by the pri¬ 
mate. Although his episcopal revenues did not ex¬ 
ceed <£300 per annum, he contrived, not only to sup¬ 
port the dignity of his station, but to rebuild the 
palace, at an expense of £1400, to erect a chapel at Castleton, 
to establish parochial libraries, to improve the agriculture of 
the island, and to relieve many of the distressed among its in¬ 
habitants. Shortly after his appointment to the bishopric, he 
was offered a rich living in Yorkshire, which he might have 
held in commendam , with his see, but, being hostile to plurali¬ 
ties and non-residence, he declined to accept it. In 1799, 
he published a small tract in Manx and English, the first work 
ever printed in the former tongue, entitled “ The Principles and 
Duties of Christianity.” In 1703, he prepared his celebrated 
u Ecclesiastical Constitutions;” and so admirable was his con¬ 
duct as a prelate, that the universities of Oxford and Cambridge 
honoured him with the degree of D. D., and Lord Chancellor 
King declared that, “ if the ancient discipline of the church 
were lost elsewhere, it might be found in all its purity in the 
Isle of Man.” About the year 1721, he thought proper to de- 




628 ' 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


nounce the Independent Whig as a dangerous and immoral pub¬ 
lication, and to cause several copies of it to be seized. The 
officer, who performed this duty, having taken possession of one 
belonging to the public library, the governor committed him to 
prison, and, it is stated, behaved with some harshness to the 
bishop himself; who rendered the dispute more serious, by inter¬ 
dicting the governor’s lady from the communion table, because 
she had contumaciously refused to atone for the offence of defam¬ 
ing a female acquaintance. The governor, in return, fined the 
bishop <£50, and for default of payment, committed him to the 
damp and gloomy prison of Castle Rushin, from the grated win¬ 
dows of which, the incarcerated prelate is said to have exhorted 
his indignant flock not to commit any breach of the peace. An 
appeal, on his behalf, being made to the privy-council, the go¬ 
vernor’s proceedings were declared to be irregular; and the 
bishop was soon afterwards offered the see of Exeter, which, how¬ 
ever, he could not be prevailed upon to accept; nor, it is said, 
could he be induced to bring an action against the governor for 
damages, although the rigour of his confinement had produced 
a disorder which so disabled his fingers that he was ever after¬ 
wards compelled, when writing, to grasp the pen in the palm of 
his hand. After having conferred various important benefits 
on his diocese, he died on the 7th of March, 1755, leaving one 
son, the offspring of a very early marriage. Besides the pub¬ 
lications already mentioned, he printed 44 A Short History of 
the Isle of Manseveral sermons on practical subjects; and 
a few religious tracts. At a late period of his life, a translation 
of the Scriptures into Manx was commenced under his auspices, 
which his successor, Hildesly, caused to be completed. He was 
a man of respectable scientific and classical attainments; par¬ 
ticularly tolerant: indefatigable in the performance of his duties 
as a prelate, and a most zealous friend to the labouring classes. 
Having, on one occasion, ordered a cloak with a single loop and 
button, his tailor remarked, that if such a fashion should pre¬ 
vail, the poor button-makers would starve. 44 Indeed!” ex¬ 
claimed the bishop, 44 then button it all over.” His charities, 
it is said, were dispensed judiciously, and in the true spirit of 
Christian benevolence. He once gave a friend directions to 
present <£50 to a poor sick clergyman, who had a large family, 
in the most delicate manner possible, and with an intimation, 


THOMAS WILSON. 


629 


that the donor had no wish to be known. “ I will wait upon 
him early to-morrow morning,” said the gentleman. “ You will 
oblige me,” replied the bishop, “by carrying the money to him 
directly. Think, sir, of what importance a good night’s rest 
may be to this poor man.” Although he always declined taking 
his seat in the House of Lords, because, as he said, Christ’s king¬ 
dom not being of this world, he thought the church should have 
nothing to do with the state, yet, while in London, prosecuting 
his appeal, he appeared on several occasions at court; and it is 
related that, one day, Queen Caroline, perceiving him approach, 
thus complimented him, at the expense of several prelates who 
were then in her majesty’s presence :—“ Here, my lords, is a 
bishop, whose object is not translation, and who will not part 
with his spouse because she is poor.” 


8 a 2 


630 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ROBERT ROBINSON. 



OBERT, the son of Michael Robinson, an ex¬ 
ciseman of indifferent character, was born at 
Swaffham, in the county of Norfolk, on the 
8th of June, 1735. His mother, the daughter of 
a respectable gentleman, who, though incensed 
by her marriage, afforded her occasional assist¬ 
ance, states that at seven years of age he was 
“a pretty scholar, and had been at a Latin 
school a year and a half.” “His master,” she 
adds “ was very fond of him, and used to say that 
he never knew a child that discovered so much 
capacity.” At this period he was removed to a 
grammar school at Seaming, under the superinten¬ 
dence of a clergyman named Brett. 

His mother now entirely lost the aid of her father, 
on account of the profligacy of her husband, who, be¬ 
coming much involved, fled, with a view to avoid his creditors, 
from Seaming to Winchester, where he soon afterwards died. 
His widow, though much distressed, contrived, out of the pro¬ 
ceeds of a small lodging-house and her earnings as a needle¬ 
woman, to keep her son at the grammar-school; where, at the 
age of thirteen, he is said to have acquired a very respectable 
knowledge of the classics. He had also become tolerably con¬ 
versant with French, in studying which he had the advantage 
of frequent intercourse with the French usher of the grammar- 
school, who lodged at his mother’s house. This excellent woman 
appears for some time to have entertained a hope that he would 
have been sent to college by her father; who, however, died 
without making any provision either for his grandson or herself. 
His master then endeavoured to procure him a situation, but 
failed, it is suspected, on account of the youth’s ignorance of 
arithmetic. Under these circumstances, Mrs. Robinson was 



ROBERT ROBINSON. 


631 


glad to accept of an offer, made by a hair-dresser, named An¬ 
derson, residing in Crutched Friars, the brother of one of her 
female friends, to receive him as an apprentice without a pre¬ 
mium. She accompanied him to London, early in March, 1749, 
and contrived to support herself and provide him with clothes, 
by labouring with great assiduity at needle-work. 

At this period he began to keep a diary, in which he record¬ 
ed the most minute circumstances that occurred to him. By 
this we learn, that, although his master denied him the use of a 
candle, he constantly rose between four and five o’clock in the 
morning; diligently studied the Scriptures ; and took great de¬ 
light in attending the pulpits of celebrated divines of all denomi¬ 
nations. To Whitefield, whom he termed “his spiritual father,” 
he wrote several letters, which, according to his biographer, 
Dyer, breathe the genuine spirit of a dutiful son, and the self- 
abasing language of a sincere Calvinist. One or two of these 
epistles were accidentally read in his presence, by Whitefield, a 
circumstance which appears to have afforded him the most in¬ 
tense delight. 

Religious subjects at length engrossed nearly the whole of 
his attention, and he began to entertain thoughts of devoting 
himself to the diffusion of the gospel. At this time he was in 
the habit of preaching, alone, in his own room, a practice to 
which has been attributed his subsequent « facility in colloquial 
address.” His master, by whom he appears to have been great¬ 
ly beloved, having consented to cancel his indentures, he pro¬ 
ceeded to Mildenhall, in Norfolk, where, at the age of twenty, 
he delivered his first discourse before a small congregation of 
Methodists, from Job ix. 2. The innocence of his youth, 
the agreeableness of his manners, and the enthusiasm of his 
genius, says Dyer, all conspired to render him popular: and, 
in a short time, he received an invitation to preach at the Ta¬ 
bernacle, in the city of Norwich; where he continued to officiate, 
until the immorality of one of its ministers induced him to se¬ 
cede from the society, with thirteen of its members. 

He now became’pastor of a small congregation in St. Paul’s, 
Norwich; and, according to the practice of the Independent 
churches, drew up his confession of faith, which comprehended 
the various points of doctrine supported by the Calvinistic Me¬ 
thodists. This solemn avowal of his adherence to dissenting 


632 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


tenets, it is said, deprived him of the regard of an opulent re¬ 
lative, who had previously intended to have bequeathed him a 
considerable legacy. 

In 1759, he married a farmer’s daughter, named Ellen Payne. 
On the 8th of July, in the same year, he preached for the first 
time at Cambridge, (which subsequently became the scene of his 
most brilliant efforts,) from Corinthians xv. 3; and in 1761, 
he accepted an invitation to become pastor of a small congrega¬ 
tion there ; the members of which could scarcely afford him <£20 
per annum. His ministry was, however, so successful, that, in 
the course of a few years, the society included above two hun¬ 
dred highly respectable families; and a commodious place of 
worship was erected for him at their expense. The younger 
collegians are said to have frequently attended his chapel for 
the purpose of ridiculing him; until, at length, two of them were 
prosecuted for their indecorous conduct, and one of them was 
compelled to insert an apology in the papers; the other being 
excused on account of his previous good character. The senior 
members of the university appear, however, to have formed a 
just estimate of his merits; they not only treated him with 
marked respect, but allowed him free access to the libraries, and 
even granted him the uncommon privilege of taking books away 
with him to peruse at his own residence. 

In 1773, his salary, though much increased, being still in¬ 
adequate to the support of his already numerous family, he took 
a small copyhold estate, which, with assistance, he was subse¬ 
quently enabled to purchase, at Chesterton, near Cambridge; 
where, with a view to better his circumstances, he engaged in 
business as a farmer, a corn-dealer, and a coal-merchant. At 
the same time, but without diminishing his exertions as a divine, 
he began to distinguish himself as an author. In 1774, he pub¬ 
lished a work, for which he received twenty guineas, entitled 
“ Arcana ; or, The Principles of the late Petitioners to Parlia¬ 
ment, for Relief in the matter of Subscription.” In this produc¬ 
tion, which materially advanced his reputation among the dis¬ 
senters, he is said to have displayed great penetration, lively 
reasoning, and a happy facility for simplifying and illustrating 
his subject. He had previously (in 1770) printed, by way of 
specimen, two sermons from the French of Saurin, and these 
being favourably received, he published a volume, translated 


ROBERT ROBINSON. 


633 


from the works of that celebrated preacher, in 1775; which 
was followed, at intervals, by four others, including an able prefa¬ 
tory dissertation on the “ Reformation in France“ Memoirs 
of Saurinand «Reflections on Deism, Christian Liberty, 
Human Explication of a Divine Revelation,” &c. &c. 

Contemporary with the first volume of his translations from 
the eminent French divine, appeared his curious treatise, ap¬ 
pended to “ The Legal Degrees of Marriage Stated and Con¬ 
sidered,” by John Alleyne, barrister-at-law, in which he main¬ 
tained that it was lawful for a man to marry his wife’s sister. 
In 1776, he produced “A Plea for the Divinity of our Lord 
Jesus Christ,” in reply to Lindsey’s ‘‘Apology ” for resigning his 
vicarage of Catterick, and to Jebb’s “ Short State of Reasons” 
for abandoning his benefice, a work of great ability, for which 
he was honoured with the thanks and compliments of Bishops 
Hinchcliffe and Halifax, Dean Tucker, and other eminent church¬ 
men. In the following year, he printed a tract, entitled, “ The 
History and Mystery of Good Friday in which it is observed, 
he attacked with great learning, and still more point and hum¬ 
our, the folly of those religionists who observe festival days. 
Shortly afterwards, he supplied Kippis with materials for the 
life of Baker, the antiquary, to be inserted in the “ Biographia 
Britannicaand in 1778, he produced “A Plan of Lectures 
on the Principles of Non-Conformity,” containing outlines of 
the entire differences between the Church of England and the 
dissenters; the object of which was to confirm the latter in 
their principles, and to furnish them with reasons for se¬ 
cession. This work obtained the commendation of Lord Shel¬ 
burne, in the House of Peers, and was ably defended by Fox, 
against an attack that had been made on it by Burke, during a 
debate in the Commons, on the test and corporation acts. About 
the same time, he produced a translation of Claude’s celebrated 
Essays on the “ Composition of a Sermon,” in two volumes, 
octavo, with notes; which he afterwards more extensively illus¬ 
trated by curious and often humorous anecdotes, sensible reflec¬ 
tions on the beauties, and caustic observations on the defects, 
perceptible in the discourses of many celebrated modern preach¬ 
ers. For this work he is said to have received <£400. 

In 1780, he visited Oxford, and proceeded thence to Scotland, 
where he was offered a diploma of D. D., which he modestly 
80 


634 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


declined. In the following year, with the view to produce a 
more charitable spirit among his brethren, the Baptists, he pub¬ 
lished “ The General Doctrine of Toleration applied to the par¬ 
ticular case of Free Communion.” About this period he formed 
a design of founding a Baptist college ; which, however, he was 
compelled to abandon, but succeeded in establishing a society at 
Cambridge, for the relief of dissenting ministers, their widows 
and children. In 1782, he was solicited, by a society of Baptists, 
to undertake a complete and authentic history of their sect, for 
which he began forthwith to collect materials. Shortly after¬ 
wards, he was eminently instrumental in the establishment of a so¬ 
ciety at Cambridge, for the promotion of constitutional informa¬ 
tion, to advance which, he published, “ A Political Catechism,” 
familiarly expounding the principles of civil government. For 
this production, he is said to have received only twenty guineas. 

In 1784, he published “ Sixteen Discourses,” which he had 
delivered extempore to illiterate congregations in the neighbour¬ 
hood of Cambridge: these with “ Six Morning Exercises,” 
chiefly on practical subjects, evinced so much liberality on doc¬ 
trinal points, that “ he was furiously preached against as an 
Arian and Socinian;” and being no longer regarded as a sin¬ 
cere Calvinist, he lost much of that popularity which he had 
previously enjoyed. In the summer of the same year, he was 
visited by a distinguished American ; who, as he says, “ came 
on Saturday evening,—spent the Lord’s day with us,—departed 
on Monday afternoon, and left me the choice of the cabin of the 
Washington, and as much land in the States as I would wish to 
accept. Happiest of countries ! Peace and prosperity attend 
you ! I shall never see you; but if I forget the ability and vir¬ 
tue that struggled to obtain, and actually did obtain, all that 
mankind hold dear, let my right hand forget her cunning !” 

For the purpose of opening new mines of information, and 
thereby increasing his utility, he now began to study the Span¬ 
ish, Portuguese, Italian, and German languages; but the 
strength of his body was no longer capable of sustaining the 
energy of his mind; a constitutional decay, attended by a la¬ 
mentable depression of spirits, was the consequence of his men¬ 
tal exertions; and, at length, he became so reduced that his 
family, trusting that the journey might restore him to health, 
encouraged a desire which he had long entertained, of paying a 


ROBERT ROBINSON. 


635 


visit to the celebrated Priestley. He accordingly set out for 
Birmingham, on the 2d of June, 1790, and preached two ser¬ 
mons there on the following Sunday. Two days afterwards he 
spent a social evening with a few friends, and retired to rest, in 
as good health as he had been for some time past. He was, 
however, found dead in his bed the next morning, having, ap¬ 
parently, departed this life, as he had often wished that he 
should do, suddenly, and alone. This event took place on the 
8th of June, 1790, in the fifty-fifth year of his age, in the house 
of a Mr. Russel, the friend of Dr. Priestley, at Showel Green, 
near Birmingham. 

In the same pulpit from which, only a week before, this emi¬ 
nent pastor had addressed a numerous and admiring congrega¬ 
tion, his funeral sermon was preached by Dr. Priestley, who de¬ 
scribed him as “ one whose benign disposition and gentle man¬ 
ners had entitled him to the character of an amiable man ; whose 
genius, whose learning, whose steady opposition to every species 
of tyranny, as well among Protestant dissenters as established 
hierarchies, had entitled him to the character of a great man.” 

In a discourse delivered elsewhere, on the same occasion, Dr. 
Rees said of him:—« When he was in his prime, he used, with¬ 
out any art or ostentation of oratory perfectly to command the 
attention of his audience; and always speaking extempore, he 
would vary his style and address according to his hearers, in a 
manner that was truly wonderful. His writings discover equal 
powers of imagination and of judgment. His sermons, preach¬ 
ed in the villages near Cambridge, are remarkable for their 
plainness and their propriety. But at the time they were com¬ 
posed, he had not acquired all the sentiments that he did before 
he died.” To illustrate the last observation, it is necessary to 
state, that some time before his decease, he had embraced the 
Unitarian doctrines of Priestley with regard to the divinity of 
Christ. Dr. Rees observes that towards the close of his career, 
“ his discourse was unconnected and desultory; and his manner 
of treating the Trinity savoured rather of burlesque than of 
serious reasoning.” At this period he is described as having 
attacked orthodox opinions with extraordinary poignancy and 
sarcasm; although he had previously, on account of his “ Plea 
for the Divinity of Christ,” been very much caressed by the 
friends of the established church. “ On this account,” says 


686 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


Priestley, « I believe it was, that he had the offer of consider¬ 
able preferment in the Church of England; which, with great 
magnanimity, he rejected.” 

“His good sense and generous spirit,” says Dr. Toulmin, 
“ would not suffer him to go into the trammels of any party. 
Religious liberty, if I may be allowed the expression, was his 
idol.” A writer in the Scotch Encyclopaedia, after allowing 
his great abilities as a writer and pastor, adds, “ He appears to 
have been of an unsteady temper ; and, in our opinion, acquires 
but little credit from the frequency with which he changed his 
religious creed, for we have reason to believe he died a Socinian.” 

He did not live to complete his “ History of the Baptists;” 
one part of which appeared in 1790, and his collections for the 
remainder, in 1792, under the title of “Ecclesiastical Re¬ 
searches.” In addition to these, and his other literary labours 
already noticed, he appears to have published some theological 
translations, a discourse on “Proper Behaviour at Relative 
Assemblies;” «Slavery inconsistent with the Principles of 
Christianity;” “Early Piety to Young Persons,” and other 
minor pieces on religious subjects. 


DANIEL NEAL. 


637 


DANIEL NEAL. 



EAL, the historian of the Puritans, was born 
in London, on the 14th of December, 1678-9. 
Becoming an orphan at an early age, the care 
of his education devolved upon his uncle; who, 
about the year 1686, placed him at Merchant 
Tailors’ school; whence, after refusing an ex- 
Q hibition to St John’s College, Cambridge, he re¬ 
moved to Mr. Rowe’s academy for young men 
who intended to become dissenting ministers. 
He subsequently studied at the universities of 
Utrecht and Leyden, under Burman and Graevius. 
In 1706, he was appointed pastor of a congregation 
in Aldersgate- street; whence, on account of the in¬ 
crease of his flock, he subsequently removed to a 
more commodious building in Jewin street. Notwith¬ 
standing his indefatigable exertions as a preacher, he 
found leisure to become a voluminous author. In 1720, he 
published “ A History of New England,” in two volumes, .octavo; 
and, in the following year, the university of Cambridge, in Ame¬ 
rica, conferred on him the degree of M. A. In 1722, appeared 
his “ Letter to Dr. Francis Hare, Bishop of Chichester,” in 
reply to some remarks which that prelate had made on the dis¬ 
senters, in a visitation sermon. In 1732, he produced the first 
part of his “ History of the Puritans the second, third, and 
fourth volumes of which appeared, respectively, in 1733, 1736, 
and 1738. Warburton, on finding this work, which is highly 
honourable to the abilities of its author, in the library at Dur¬ 
ham, without a reply, determined on answering it himself. 
He says, “ I took it home to my house, and, at breakfast time, 
filled the margins quite through; which I think to be a full 
confutation of all his false facts and partial representations.” 
The notes which Warburton made on this occasion, were subse- 

3 H 


638 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


quently printed in a volume, entitled, “ Tracts by Warburton 
and a Warburtonian.” Neal’s History was also attacked by 
Bishop Maddox, to whom he published a reply; and by Dr. 
Zachary Grey, whose objections were answered by Dr. Toulmin, 
in a new edition of the work, which appeared in 1797. In 1740, 
Neal delivered a course of lectures, in support of the reformed 
religion, against Popery, which, it is said, “ crowds of persons 
eagerly attended.” About the year 1738, his health began to 
decline, and, after having suffered much from paralytic attacks, 
he died at Bath, on the 4th of April, 1743, leaving a son by his 
wife, who was a sister of the celebrated Dr. Lardner. Besides 
the productions already mentioned, Neal published “A Narra¬ 
tive of the Method and Success of Inoculating for the Small 
Pox, in New Englandwhich led to an interview between him 
and the Princess Caroline of Wales; who, notwithstanding the 
violent prejudices then entertained against the practice, shortly 
afterwards caused her children to be inoculated. He was be¬ 
loved by his family and friends, revered by his congregation, 
and admired by the whole of his sect; although he appears to 
have given some temporary offence, by withdrawing from those 
who subscribed to the doctrine of the Trinity, in which, however, 
he is said to have fully believed. His disposition was particu¬ 
larly mild, and his aversion to any appearance of bigotry so 
great, that he repelled no denomination of Christians from his 
communion. 


LEGS RICHMOND. 


639 


LEGH RICHMOND. 



AS born at Liverpool, on the 29th of January, 
1772. He received an injury, during his 
childhood, by leaping from a wall, which 
lamed him for the remainder of his life. Af¬ 
ter having laid the foundation of a classical 
education, he proceeded to Trinity College, 
Cambridge, where a severe illness, produced 
by intense application, materially retarded his 
academical progress. He graduated, by JEgro- 
tat , in 1794, and proceeded to the degree of M. 
A. in 1797 ; during which year he married, took 
deacon’s orders, and commenced his pastoral duties 
as a curate in the Isle of Wight. He subsequently 
officiated, for some time, at Lock Chapel, in the me¬ 
tropolis ; and, in 1805, obtained the rectory of Turvey, 
in Bedfordshire, where he died, on the 8th of May, 1827. 
Besides a work, entitled, “ The Fathers of the Church,” he 
wrote a number of narrative pieces, in support of religion, seve¬ 
ral of which, (including “ The Dairyman’s Daughter,” “ The 
Young Cottager,” “ The Negro Servant,” &c.) after having 
been printed separately, were collected and published in one 
volume, entitled, “ Annals of the Poor.” Some of these simple 
and unpretending compositions, which procured for their ami¬ 
able author a large share of public esteem, as well as the friend¬ 
ship of many pious and learned individuals, have been translated 
into more than twenty foreign languages, and millions of copies 
of them have been circulated. He preached extemporaneously, 
and without much preparation. “Why,” said he, “need I la¬ 
bour, when our simple villagers are far more usefully instructed, 
in my plain, easy, familiar manner ? The only result would 
be, that I should address them in a style beyond their compre¬ 
hension.” 



640 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JAMES MONTGOMERY. 



> AMES MONTGOMERY, the eldest son of 
a Moravian minister, was born on the 4th of 
November, 1771, at Irvine, in Ayrshire, 
Scotland. At an early age, he was placed 
by his parents, (previous to their departure 
for the West Indies, where both of them died,) 
at a Moravian seminary, at Fulnick, in York¬ 
shire. Here he remained ten years; and, not¬ 
withstanding the confined mode of education pur¬ 
sued there, continued to make considerable literary 
progress, independently of his scholastic studies. 
By the time he was twelve years old, his ideas on 
poesy had so expanded, that he had filled two volumes 
with verses; and, in two years afterwards, he added a 
mock-heroic poem, in three books, in imitation of 
Homer’s Frogs and Mice. Encouraged by the appro¬ 
bation with which these efforts were received by his immediate 
friends, he attempted but ultimately laid aside, two epic poems, 
which, however, displayed no ordinary genius. The conductors 
of the Fulnick Academy, finding him averse to become one of 
their ministry, placed him with a retail shopkeeper at Mirfield, 
in Yorkshire; but, disgusted with his occupation, he quitted it 
at the end of a year, and set out, with three shillings and six¬ 
pence in his pocket, “ at the age of sixteen, to begin the world.” 
His project was to proceed at once to London; but he found 
the world, as he proceeded, very unlike what he had figured to 
himself, in his fervid moments at Fulnick. It was in the me¬ 
tropolis, says a writer in “ The Monthly Magazine,” that « his 
heated imagination had depicted the honours and riches that 
awaited him,” were to be found; but to go there was impossible; 
and, on the fourth day, he engaged himself in a situation similar 
to that which he had left, at Wash, near Rotterham. He re- 


WILLIAM ALLEN. 


649 


wife, Mary Hamilton, whom he lost in less than a year. The 
state of his feelings, at that afflicting event, are exhibited with 
painful vividness in his diary. He was eminently fitted for the 
enjoyment of domestic and social pleasures ; and the feeling he 
evinces at each of the many calamities which he endured, do 
honour to his heart and his creed. 

In proportion as he prospered in business, he became ac¬ 
quainted with persons eminent either from character or station. 
Intercourse with them gradually drew him into association with 
many scientific or benevolent projects, by which his sphere of 
usefulness as a man and a Christian was greatly enlarged. 
When delivering public lectures on chemistry, he seized every 
opportunity to impress upon his audience the proofs of reli¬ 
gion afforded by that science, and the wonderful manner in 
which it exhibits the workmanship of an infinitely wise Creator. 
Amid the success which attended these lectures, it is edifying to 
observe how carefully he guards against vanity and love of ap¬ 
plause. At one time, he fears that philosophy has drawn his 
attention from religion; at another, that it may lead him into 
hurtful society; and again, that the time devoted to science is 
not occupied so profitably as it might be. He acquires know¬ 
ledge, not as a philosopher, but a Christian: not by way of self- 
aggrandizement, but to benefit his fellow-men. After his second 
marriage with Charlotte Hanbury, in 1806, he remained in the 
office of overseer of the Friends’ Society until 1813, when he 
was appointed elder. His labours in this capacity were many 
and arduous; besides which, he was engaged with Wilberforce 
and others, in efforts to abolish slave labour, to christianize 
Africa, to relieve the distressed manufacturers of England, and 
to promote the project for the institution of Bible Societies. He 
was appointed by the Society of Friends to present to the Emperor 
of Russia and the King of Prussia, during their visit to London 
in 1814, petitions and plans for establishing Bible Societies in 
their dominions. At the same time, he corresponded with dis¬ 
tinguished men in different parts of Europe, with a view to effect 
the same object. In 1816, he was sent on a religious tour 
through France, Netherlands, and Germany, during which jour¬ 
ney he lost his wife, who died near Geneva. He again visited 
France in the following year; and in 1818, went to Scotland, 
for the double purpose of promoting the immediate objects of 
82 * 31 


652 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JOSEPH LANCASTER, 



HO invented the Lancasterian School system, 
was born in Kent Square, Southwark, (Lon¬ 
don,) November 27, 1778. His father had 
been a soldier in the American war, but, being 
a man of rare piety, he took much pains, in 
conjunction with his wife, to inculcate on his 
children the principles of piety. “ My first 
impressions,” says Lancaster, « of the beauty of 
the Christian religion were received from their 
instructions.” As a most singular instance of 
the effect of these instructions upon his mind, 
he relates, that when a child he frequently retired 
to a corner, where he repeated again and again the 
name of Jesus, bowing each time reverently to it. 
“ I seemed to feel,” he afterwards said, « that it was the 
name of one I loved, and to whom my heart performed 
reverence. I departed from my retirement well satisfied 
with what I had been doing, and I never remembered it but 
with delight.” The enthusiasm and ardent longing after the 
good and beautiful in character, which distinguished him when 
a child, form prominent features in his subsequent history. 
When eight years old, with a heart “filled with love and devo¬ 
tion to God,” and “breathings of good-will to the human race,” 
he studied the Gospels, unassisted and in retirement. Six years 
after, he read “ Clarkson’s Essay on the Slave Trade.” And 
now a change came over his feelings and his desires. Hitherto 
he had studied alone and for himself; now he must study and 
labour for others. Hitherto his enthusiasm had fed upon and 
sustained itself; henceforward, it must have one mighty object 
to attain, the struggle for which filled his mind with burning 
thoughts, which, when wrought into action seemed to other men 
madness. At fourteen—a boy—friendless and unknown—he 
adopted the resolution of going to Jamaica to teach the negroes 
to read the Bible. 


JOSEPH LANCASTER. 


653 


The narrative of his attempted journey to the West Indies is 
worthy of perusal; displaying, as it does, how genius rightly 
directed will overcome all difficulties. Young Lancaster left 
home for Bristol without the knowledge of his parents, and 
carrying nothing with him except a Bible, the Pilgrim’s Pro¬ 
gress, and a few shillings. The first night he slept under a 
hedge, the second under a hay-stack. When his money was 
exhausted he was sustained by a mechanic whom he met on the 
road, and who was also travelling to Bristol. Pennyless and 
almost shoeless, he there engaged as a volunteer, and was sent 
to Milford Haven, where he embarked. On board he gained from 
the sailors the title of parson, and occasionally warned them of 
the temptations incident to their profession. He was soon, how¬ 
ever, restored to his parents, through the kindness of a friend. 

From this time, until he was eighteen, he assisted at two 
schools, one a day the other a boarding-school, where he had 
an opportunity of examining the defects of the then prevalent 
school system. He then commenced teaching for himself on 
the “free” system; taking all children who came, and clothing 
those who needed clothing. Soon a new school-room became ne¬ 
cessary. One was provided through the benevolence of the Duke 
of Bedford and Lord Sommerville, and the children “came in 
for education like flocks of sheep.” In a little while they num¬ 
bered a thousand. He was the companion, the playmate, the 
benefactor, as well as the instructor of his pupils; and as such 
he was adored by them. From this state of real happiness he 
was brought upon the arena of the world to suffer trial, mortifi¬ 
cation, applause uncongenial to his feelings, and finally neglect. 

He became an object of public attention. The facility with 
which he managed hundreds of rude boys became food for 
curiosity and speculation. First came the neighbouring gentry 
on visits; then schoolmasters and professors from some distance; 
then speculators and political economists; then foreign princes, 
ambassadors, peers, commoners, ladies of distinction, bishops, 
and archbishops. His writings were dragged to light and passed 
through edition after edition, each larger than its predecessor. 
He abandoned the school-room to youths trained under his 
eye, and was placed on the lecture stand before crowded audi¬ 
ences. Even the monarch admitted him to his presence; and 
while the humble tutor stood, with hat on head, the monarch 
3 i 2 


654 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


applauded and remunerated him. A subscription, headed by 
the names of the royal family, was opened, and money began 
to pour upon him from every quarter. 

But with this prosperity came trials to which Lancaster had 
hitherto been a stranger. He was naturally enthusiastic, now 
his enthusiasm was heightened to delirium. Then, and years 
after, his mind was almost constantly in a state of excitement 
which seemed almost too great for the human frame to endure. 
It seems wonderful that he survived it. Yet from this worldly 
tumult, for which he was unfitted, he found refuge in the quiet 
moments of meditation and prayer. At one time the “ iron 
hand of affliction and sorrow is upon him;” at another, he is 
telling the high and mighty ones that the decree of heaven hath 
gone forth, that the poor youth of these nations shall be edu¬ 
cated, and it is out of the power of man to reverse it.” Now 
he feels “peaceful and resigned,” and that he is “sent into the 
world to do and suffer the will of God;” and again, he shouts 
“ victory! victory! the enemies are amazed and confounded; 
the stout-hearted are spoiled ; they have slept their sleep ; none 
of the men of might have found their hands; the Lord hath 
cast the horse and his rider into a deep sleep.” Of the value 
and correct use of money he was ignorant, lavishing it as he 
had received it; yet always, it should be remarked, in the be¬ 
lief that it was promoting the advancement of Christianity and 
virtue. His affairs soon became deranged; his creditors, who 
of course understood little of his character, and cared less, came 
upon him; and the former idolized philanthropist was thrown 
into prison. Calamity could make no more impression upon 
him than prosperity had done. He “is as happy as Joseph was 
in the king’s prison;” cannot believe «that if the Almighty has 
designed the education of the poor in London, a few poor, piti¬ 
less creditors can prevent it;” and desires that his friends’ eyes 
might be opened “to seethe mountain full of horses of fire and 
chariots of fire round about Elijah.” In 1808 he was released; 
his affairs were consigned to trustees; and through his instru¬ 
mentality the British and Foreign School society was formed. 

These transactions produced no change in Lancaster’s char¬ 
acter. His piety was as fervid and childlike as ever, his phil¬ 
anthropy undamped, his knowledge of what men called business 
as rudimental. In 1818 he sailed for the New World. 


JOSEPH LANCASTER. 


655 


On arriving in the United States, Lancaster was received as 
the friend of learning and of mankind; invited to lecture, and 
heard as he had been in England. This enthusiasm gradually 
subsided, especially after rumours of his pecuniary transactions 
arrived from his own country. Sickness, long and severe, 
visited his family; and before ho was aware of its approach, 
poverty came upon him as an armed man. Being advised to 
remove to a warmer climate, he visited Caraccas, where he 
“was kindly received, promised great things, honoured with 
the performance of little ones.” He was even obliged to leave 
his family, and fly from the country. He visited Santa Cruz 
and St. Thomas, occasionally lecturing there, and then returned 
to Philadelphia. Again sickness overtook him, with poverty 
and sorrow. In miserable lodgings, with an apparently dying 
wife, pinched by want, and oppressed by difficulties of every 
kind, he appealed to the public for assistance. The appeal 
was answered. The corporation of New York voted him five 
hundred dollars, with which he rented a small house, and soon 
began to recover strength. 

Lancaster now resolved on returning to England, and had 
nearly agreed upon his passage, when circumstances induced 
him to visit Canada., At Montreal he lectured with such suc¬ 
cess that a tide of prosperity flowed upon him, and determined 
him to remain. But with this singular man prosperity was 
always the vestibule to poverty. Another series of reverses 
made him poor, and he opened a private school. Yet he clung 
to the consolations of religion, and was rewarded by inward 
serenity of mind, and the proud consciousness of right. Soon 
after an annuity was granted him from England, and his re¬ 
maining days were less stormy and irregular than those before. 

Having sketched the life of this truly good and useful, though 
eccentric man, we approach with feelings of melancholy the 
narrative of his untimely end. He had again formed the re¬ 
solution of returning to England, and was within a short time 
of executing it, when he was run over by a carriage in the 
streets of New York, October 23, 1838. His ribs being broken, 
and his head much lacerated, he was carried to the house of a 
friend, where he died calmly, and apparently without a struggle, 
in the fifty-first year of his age. 


656 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


JOSEPH JOHN GURNEY. 



OSEPH JOHN GURNEY, an eminent mem¬ 
ber of the denomination of Friends in Eng¬ 
land, was born at Earlham, near Norwich, 
August 2, 1788. In infancy he, in common 
with ten other children, was deprived of his 
maternal parent, and, in consequence of that 
loss, exposed to many misfortunes and tempta¬ 
tions. His subsequent entrance upon secular 
business was made under flattering auspices, he be¬ 
ing an assistant in the large business establishment 
connected with his family. These prospects, which, 
to the spiritual interests of most young persons would 
have proved a snare, afforded young Gurney an oppor¬ 
tunity to strengthen the pious feelings he had early 
evinced, and to make business subservient to the cause 
of religion. His private memorandums of this period 
evince that he considered his obligations to God and his fellow- 
men as his paramount motive; and the views which at that 
tender age he took of himself were of the most humble and 
self-abasing nature. 

Gurney was by birth a member of the Society of Friends. 
When he was about twenty-four years of age, his previous reli¬ 
gious impressions deepened into powerful convictions ; he feared 
longer to remain out of the Church; he studied with childlike 
enthusiasm the sacred Scriptures; he called mightily for assist¬ 
ance from Heaven; and, finally, prompted, as he believed, by 
the Holy Spirit, he gave up all to God, joined the Society of 
Friends, and remained true to his confession during the remain¬ 
der of his life. “In thus entering more completely,” he says, 
“ into a small society of Christians, I feel satisfied on the ground 
of believing that they do hold the doctrine of Christ in many 
respects in more original purity than any other sect. But, 


JAMES MONTGOMERY. 


641 


mained but a twelvemonth in this situation, still cherishing the 
idea of metropolitan fame; and, as a step to which, he had sent 
a manuscript volume of his poems to Mr. Harrison, a bookseller 
in Paternoster Row, who, upon the arrival of our youthful author 
in London, took him into his shop, but declined to publish 
his poems. 

After a quarrel with Mr. Harrison, and a vain attempt to 
procure the publication of an Eastern Tale, he returned to his 
former employment in Yorkshire; but, in 1792, still yearning 
after literary fame, he engaged himself to Mr. Gales, a book¬ 
seller, at Sheffield, and the publisher of a newspaper, called 
“The Sheffield Register.” In this he occasionally wrote; and, 
in 1784, on the flight of Mr. Gales from England, to avoid a 
prosecution, our author undertook the editorship and publication 
of the paper, the name of which he changed to “The Iris.” 
Though he observed a greater degree of moderation in politics 
than had been used by the former editor, the paper was still 
obnoxious enough to government to involve its proprietor in a 
prosecution. This was for the printing of a song in commemo¬ 
ration of the destruction of the Bastile, which had appeared in 
“ The Sheffield Register” a year ago, but had been recently 
circulated by a hawker, at whose anxious request our author 
had reluctantly struck off a few copies. He w T as accordingly 
tried for a libel in January, 1795; and, on conviction, sentenced 
to a fine of £20, and three months’ imprisonment in York Castle, 

On resuming his editorial duties, he abstained, as much as 
possible, from politics; but he had not been long liberated,, 
before he was again prosecuted for a libel on a magistrate of 
Sheffield, in his account of a riot which had taken place in the- 
town. He was sentenced to pay a fine of £30, and to be im¬ 
prisoned for six months; but, after his release, it is said his 
prosecutor took every opportunity of showing him respect in 
public, and to advance his interest. In the spring of 1797, he 
printed his Prison Amusements, the production of his pen during 
his recent confinement; and, on the establishment of « The Poeti¬ 
cal Register,” he contributed to the first volume his “Battle of 
Alexandria,” and other poems. In 1805, he published “ The 
Ocean ;” and, in the following year, “The Wanderer of Switzer¬ 
land,” and other poems, which, in spite of a most illiberal criti¬ 
cism in “The Edinburgh Review,” rose into popularity, and com^ 
81 3 h 2 


642 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


pletely established the reputation of the author as a poet. In 
1809, appeared, in quarto, his poem of “The West Indies,” a 
second edition of which appeared, in octavo, in 1810, and ten 
thousand copies are said to have been since circulated. In 
1812, appeared his “World before the Flood,” and other poems, 
of which a writer in « The Monthly Magazine ” has justly said, 
that « no man of taste or feeling can possibly read it, without 
wishing to make others participate in the pleasure he has derived 
from it.” Besides the works already noticed, and upon which 
his fame, as a poet, principally rests, he has published “ Thoughts 
on Wheels ;” « Greenland,” and other poems ; « Polyhymnia,” 
“ Songs to Foreign Music ;” and “Songs of Zion,” being imita¬ 
tions of the Psalms'; and, in 1828, appeared his “Pelican 
Island,” and other poems. 

In person, Mr. Montgomery is described as rather below the 
middle stature ; slightly formed, but well proportioned, with fair 
complexion, yellow hair, and a countenance having a melan¬ 
choly but interesting expression. His modesty and reserve 
keep him silent among strangers; but he is said, by his familiar 
acquaintance, to possess colloquial powers of a first-rate order. 
Like his prototype, Cowper, he entertains an overpowering 
sense of his religious obligations ; and exhibits, occasionally, a 
melancholy gloom, which enchains his vigorous and elastic 
fancy, and arrests the progress of his playful pen. 

Mr. Montgomery is one of the poets of the present day, who, 
though not of the highest class, will hereafter take his place in 
a rank superior to that which he now occupies in the eye of the 
public. He has, however, - already enjoyed more than an ordi¬ 
nary share of reputation, and the gratification of seeing some 
of his minor poems adopted as standard quotations in reference 
to certain subjects, both for their moral and poetical beauty. 

Mr. Montgomery has written many interesting notes and 
memoirs which furnish valuable information concerning his 
youthful struggles for literary fame, and the circumstances under 
which some of his poems were written. Of his “ Prison Amuse¬ 
ments ” he says, “ These pieces w r ere composed in bitter moments, 
amid the horrors of a jail, under the pressure of sickness. They 
were the transcripts of melancholy feelings—the warm effusions 
of a bleeding heart. The writer amused his imagination with 
attiring his sorrows in verse, that under the romantic appearance 


JAMES MONTGOMERY. 


643 


of fiction he might sometimes forget that his misfortunes were 
real.” His thirst after literary, and especially poetic fame, 
was so great as to border on something even wilder than enthu¬ 
siasm. To gratify it, he abandoned flattering prospects, dis¬ 
solved many valuable connections, and shunned the society of 
near and dear friends. For a while he lived absolutely useless. 
“I was nearly as ignorant of the world,” he says of his life at 
Fulneck, “ and its every-day concerns as the gold fishes swim¬ 
ming about in the glass globe on the pedestal before us are of 
what we are doing around them; and when I took the rash step 
of running into the vortex, I was nearly as little prepared 
for the business of general life as they would be to take a part 
in our proceedings were they to leap out of their element.” 
Experience awakened him from the delusion ; he learned that 
the world was not that enchanted ground of which his fancy had 
been dreaming; and he became lonely and disgusted, among 
sights and operations in which he could find no enjoyment. A 
new idea came over him. He had failed while writing serious 
poetry; he would attempt doggerel. The result we give in his 
own words; and it may serve as a beacon to those, who, young 
and talented and enthusiastic of learning as Montgomery was, 
are determined to seek the praises of men rather than the praise 
of God. “ Effort after effort failed. A providence of disap¬ 
pointment shut every door in my face by which I attempted to 
force my way to a dishonourable fame. I was thus happily 
saved from appearing as the author of works which at this hour 
I should have been ashamed to acknowledge. Disheartened at 
length with ill success, I gave myself up to indolence and apathy, 
and lost seven years of that part of my youth which ought to 
have been the most active and profitable, in alternate listlessness 
and despondency, using no further exertion in my office affairs, 
than was necessary to keep up my credit under heavy pecuniary 
obligations, and gradually though slowly to liquidate them.” 

It is to the honour of Mr. Montgomery as a scholar and a 
Christian that he at length aroused from this dangerous apathy, 
and began writing in defence of virtue and religion. From 
that time a new purpose animated him, and his pen as well as 
his conduct produced new fruits. His longer pieces abound in 
lessons of morality, and in arguments in defence of oppressed 
humanity. “ The Wanderer of Switzerland,” is consecrated to 


644 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


the cause of freedom and oppressed patriotism. In many of 
his principal poems he breathes that longing for the dawning 
over the world of a better dispensation, the thoughts of which 
were so much in conformity to his disposition. In the 44 West 
Indies,” he describes, with deep fervour, the abolition of the 
African slave-trade, the efforts of Clarkson, Wilberforce, and 
other champions in that cause, and the prospective introduction 
of Christianity among the negroes. 44 The World before the 
Flood ” is a somewhat singular production, originating from a 
passage in Milton concerning Enoch, and describing the prim¬ 
eval world and its inhabitants. The subject is entirely epic. 
The 44 Sons of Cain,” enemies of God and his people, make an 
assault upon Eden, and, together with a race of giants, make 
prisoners of the believers or patriarchs, the children of Shem. 
While the wicked king is about to sacrifice the latter to his 
demon gods, Enoch, suddenly prophesies his overthrow by a de¬ 
luge, and is translated to heaven. His garment falls upon the 
believers, and enables them to escape. The giants are then 
destroyed by a host of cherubims from heaven. This is one of 
Mr. Montgomery’s most popular poems, and contains many fine 
and tender passages. The poem on 44 Greenland,” which de¬ 
scribes the discovery, history, and appearance of that island, 
and its colonization by Moravians, has also enjoyed much popu¬ 
larity. The 44 Thoughts on Wheels ” are little poems, rather 
whimsical, describing the different purposes to which the wheel 
has been applied. The names— 44 Combat,” 44 Inquisition,” 
“State Lottery,” 44 Car of Juggernaut,” &c. will suggest the 
subject of each poem. The 44 Songs of Zion ” are an imitation 
of many of the Hebrew Psalms, and contain many hymns not 
unworthy the worship of Jehoyah, by the heart moved to holy 
joy. Some of them are now included in the hymn collections 
of all Christian denominations, and bear comparison with simi¬ 
lar productions by Watts, Newton, Doddridge and Heber. 

We may close the biography of Mr. Montgomery by the 
following quotation from the Edinburgh Review. 44 There is 
something in all his poetry which makes fiction the most im¬ 
pressive teacher of truth and wisdom, and by which, while the 
intellect is gratified and the imagination roused, the heart, if it 
retains any sensibility to tender or elevating emotions, cannot 
fail to be made better.” 


JANE TAYLOR. 


645 


JANE TAYLOR. 

N the 23d of September, 1783, Miss Taylor 
was born in London. She was the daughter 
of an engraver, who also acted as pastor to a 
dissenting congregation at Colchester, where 
the subject of our memoir was educated, and 
learned the rudiments of her father’s business. 
Her poetical talents, which she developed at 
a very early age, were first made known to the 
public in a work called “ The Miner’s Pocket 
Book,” where her poem of “ The Beggar Boy ” 
appeared, in 1804. The approbation it met with 
encouraged her to proceed, and she produced, - in 
succession, several other poems, among which « Ori¬ 
ginal Poems for Infant Minds,” and « Rhymes for the 
Nursery,” in both of which she was assisted by her sister, 
are still popular. In 1815, she produced a work, in prose, 
entitled “Display;” which was shortly afterwards followed by 
her last work, entitled “Essays, in Rhyme, on Morals and 
Mannerswritten with taste, elegance, and feeling. Having 
removed, with her family, to Ongar, in 1810, she died there, of 
a pulmonary complaint, in April, 1823. Miss Taylor’s works 
are almost all composed with a view to the mental and moral 
improvement of youth, and, as such, are deservedly reckoned 
among the first and most useful of their class. There is in them 
that simple earnestness and that appearance of every-day life 
which never fail to fascinate the youthful reader; while her 
frequent intermixture of the quiet rural scenes of England, with 
the mental condition of the lower classes, caused by the poverty 
and oppression which they experience in great cities, affords 
descriptions which leave indelible impressions upon the mind, 
and teach in the most effectual manner the moral which it is 
her aim to convey. 



646 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ELIZABETH CARTER. 



LIZABETH CARTER, the daughter of a cler¬ 
gyman, at Deal, in Kent, was born there on 
the 16th of December, 1717, and was educated 
by her father, who at first, from the slowness 
of her faculties, despaired of her progress in 
intellectual attainments. She, however, pur¬ 
sued her studies with such perseverance, that, 
in a short time, she overcame all her difficulties, 
and became mistress, successively, of Latin, 
Greek, French, German, Italian, Spanish, Por¬ 
tuguese, and Hebrew. As early as 1736, some 
of her poems had appeared in “The Gentleman’s 
Magazine;” and, in 1738, a quarto pamphlet of her 
poetical productions was published by Cave. In 1739, 
she gave a translation of “ The Critique of Crousaz on 
Pope’s Essay on Man, and of Algarotti’s Explanation 
of Newton’s Philosophy, for the Use of the Ladies,” which pro¬ 
cured her a high reputation among the literati, both at home and 
abroad. About 1741, she became acquainted with Miss 
Catherine Talbot, and Seeker, (afterwards Archbishop of Can¬ 
terbury,) under whose encouragement she composed her cele¬ 
brated translation of Epictetus, which appeared in quarto, in 
1752. It was published, by subscription, at the price of one 
guinea, and is said to have produced to the authoress £1000. 
Her great acquisitions and intellectual powers had already pro¬ 
cured for her the friendship and admiration of some of the most 
eminent men of letters of the day, and, in 1763, she accompanied 
Lord Bath, Mrs. Montague, and Dr. Douglas (afterwards Bishop 
of Salisbury) on a tour to Spa. In the space of ten years 
from this time, she lost, successively, her friends, Lord Bath, 
Archbishop Seeker, Miss Talbot, and her father; having ar¬ 
rived, says her biographer, “ at a time of life, when every year 



ELIZABETH CARTER. 


647 


was stealing from her some intimate friend or dear relation.” 
In 1782, at the request of Sir William Pulteney, who allowed her 
an annuity of <£150 per annum, she accompanied his daughter 
to Paris; and, in 1791, she had the honour, by her majesty’s 
express desire, of an interview with Queen Charlotte. She 
also, subsequently, received visits from several of the royal 
family, and continued to be held in great reputation, long after 
she had ceased to attract public notice as a writer. She lived 
to the age of eighty-eight, and died, highly respected and es¬ 
teemed by a numerous circle of friends, on the 19th of Feb¬ 
ruary, 1806. In 1807, were published « Memoirs of her Life, 
with a new edition of her poems, &c., together with Notes on 
the Bible, and Answers to Objections concerning the Christian 
Religion, by the Rev. Montague Penningtonand, in 1808, 
her correspondence with Miss Talbot was published, in two 
volumes, octavo. The intellectual qualities of Miss Carter 
were neither dazzling nor commanding; but she possessed 
sound sense, vigour of thought, and indefatigable application. 
Elegance of style and purity of sentiment, which sometimes 
rises to the sublime, are the chief characteristics of her poetry; 
for which, however, she is less celebrated than for her learn¬ 
ing. 


648 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


WILLIAM ALLEN. 



PITALFIELDS, London, was the birth-place 
of this distinguished Christian and philan- 
. thropist. He was horn August 29, 1770, 
and both his parents were members of the So¬ 
ciety of Friends. His mind was early imbued 
with feelings of piety, and with a belief 
that the Spirit of God might one day rest upon 
him, to direct his thoughts and actions. At an 
early age he was placed at a boarding-school in 
Rochester, where the taste which he afterwards 
cultivated for philosophical studies soon developed 
itself. Many of his youthful experiments in 
chemistry are on record; and at the age of fourteen 
he had, at the expense of fourteen pence, constructed 
a rude telescope, with which he could see the moons 
of Jupiter. After leaving school, he engaged with his 
father in the silk business; but as this ill accorded with his 
philosophical taste, he in a little while entered the chemical 
establishment of Joseph Gurney Bevan at Plough Court. Here 
he advanced from one grade to another until he finally became 
the proprietor. For several years he was much occupied with 
the executive parts of business, and the prosecution of studies 
connected with it; yet in no instance does it appear that he 
allowed secular concerns to interfere with sacred duties. From 
his diary, which he kept after entering his eighteenth year, we 
learn that he was dilgent in attending his week-day meetings, 
and set apart a portion of each day for prayer and religious 
meditation. The Scriptures were his constant study; and his 
life was a living evidence of the efficacy of their teachings, to 
elevate and purify the character of man, and enlarge his capa¬ 
bilities for extensive usefulness. 

In 1796, William Allen was united in marriage to his first 



JOSEPH JOHN GURNEY. 


657 


whilst thus impressed, I earnestly hope I shall ever be able to 
stand on a broad basis, whereon I can heartily unite with all 
Christians. I desire a catholic spirit, a truly humble and de¬ 
pendent mind, an increase of faith, hope, and watchfulness, and 
knowledge of scriptural truth.” 

In 1817, Gurney married Jane Burkbeck of Lynn, by whom 
he had two children. She died in 1822. His mind was at this 
time impressed with the conviction that he had been called to 
the ministry, and he seems to have spent many days in depres¬ 
sion, temptation, and deep conflict. His constant prayer was, 
that the hand of discipline might be instrumental in leading him 
nearer to God, by showing him more and more of his own un¬ 
worthiness. To this gloomy period succeeded one of rejoicing 
and prayerfulness. With fervent heart he commenced exhorta¬ 
tions at Lynn ; and, on the 11th of June, 1818, he was acknow¬ 
ledged as a minister of the Friends. During the same year he 
attended, by permission, the general meetings in Scotland, visit¬ 
ing on his way the prisons of that country, and the north of Eng¬ 
land. The result of his observations he embodied and published 
in a little work, which appears to have elicited much attention 
and been productive of considerable good. In 1821, he com¬ 
menced in various parts of England an extensive religious ser¬ 
vice, wdiich, consisting of private as well as public meetings, had 
in a few years embraced almost every county, including London 
and its neighbourhood. Six years after, he visited Ireland, at¬ 
tending, during the visit, the yearly meeting of Dublin, the 
quarterly meetings, and many others. Here, as in Scotland, 
he went from prison to prison, and embodied his observations in 
a statement which he presented to the British government. 
For many years afterwards he w T as a regular attendant upon 
the general meetings, and a visitant in various parts of England. 
In 1827, he again married; but his wife, Mary Fowler, died in 
1835. The impression made upon his mind by this event was 
deep and lasting; yet it interrupted his labours of love only 
during a short period. We are to view him, soon after the re¬ 
commencement of these labours, embarked on a new and wide 
arena. 

In July, 1837, Gurney sailed for the United States. Land¬ 
ing at Philadelphia, he visited the societies of that city, and 
afterwards travelled through the greater portion of the Northern, 
83 


658 LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 

and Middle States. He afterwards passed into Canada, and 
sailed then to the West Indies, where he held religious service 
in the Danish and some of the British islands. In 1840, he 
returned to the United States, and four months after to Eng¬ 
land. 

In 1841, Gurney again married, and his third wife was asso¬ 
ciated with him throughout his subsequent religious career. 
During the two following years his pastoral visits extended over 
various parts of France, Germany, Switzerland, and Great 
Britain, holding many meetings in his journeys, and obtaining 
access to the sovereigns of France, Denmark, Prussia, and 
Wurtemburg. His last services of this kind consisted of visits 
to small meetings in and around London. 

Besides his Christian duties, this good man was engaged in 
many benevolent or philanthropic movements. He was an un¬ 
tiring opponent to the slave trade, a disbeliever in the efficacy 
of capital punishment, and an effectual friend of the poor, the 
oppressed, and the imprisoned. His conviction of the vast im¬ 
portance of the sacred writings made him an advocate of the 
Bible Society; while his donations to the various subjects of 
•charity were commensurate with the enlarged means placed by 
Providence at his disposal. In his writings he appears to have 
been actuated by a sincere desire to promote the glory of God 
and the welfare of men. 

We draw near the closing scene in the life of this distinguished 
Christian. A fall from a horse laid him upon the couch of 
death: and eight days afterward, January 4, 1847, he expired. 
His last moments were a fit appendix to such a life. He suf¬ 
fered little pain; his constitutional timidity was strengthened 
when many feared it would overwhelm his soul with darkness 
and distress; as the tide of life quietly, almost unconsciously, 
ebbed away, he said with a smile, “ I think I feel a little joyful 
and in a few hours afterward, amid profound silence, he fell 
•asleep. 

Joseph Gurney was buried at Norwich, in the Friends’ burial 
ground. A large number of Friends and citizens of all classes 
were present; and the ceremonies were imposing because they 
were simple. 


THOMAS FOWELL BUXTON. 


659 


THOMAS FOWELL BUXTON. 



HOMAS FOWELL BUXTON was born, 
April 1, 1786, at Castle Hedingham. His 
ancestors were of honourable extraction; and 
his father at the time of his birth was high- 
sheriff of Essex county. This parent Thomas 
lost when six years old, and the education of 
himself and two younger sisters devolved upon 
the mother. “ She was,” he says, “a woman 
of a very vigorous mind, and possessing many of 
the generous virtues in a very high degree. She 
was large minded about every thing; disinterested 
almost to excess ; careless of difficulty, labour, dan¬ 
ger, or expense in the prosecution of any great object. 
With these nobler qualities were united some of the 
imperfections which belong to that species of ardent and 
resolute character.” Her management of her children 
was peculiar. She maintained absolute authority, yet rarely 
threatened to enforce it. In her system was much liberty but little 
indulgence. With Thomas she spoke and associated rather as 
a companion than a mother, so that he began early to think 
much for himself and of himself. He became, as lie himself 
says, “of a daring, violent, domineering temper;” but after¬ 
wards, when time had worn off the asperities of such a character, 
he often thanked his parent for her training of him, attributing 
to it that strength of mind and will for which he was ever re¬ 
markable. 

Before he was five years old, Buxton was placed at a school 
in Kingston, where he learned little and suffered much. His 
subsequent career of eight years under Dr. Charles Burney of 
Greenwich was equally brilliant. Burney was kind but injudi¬ 
cious. Buxton learned little under him save mischief; and of 
that he learned so much that he became the dread of well-dis- 




660 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


posed boys, and an object of melancholy presentiment concern¬ 
ing the future. The means by which Providence roused him 
from this critical condition was a visit of Mr. Gurney, then 
near Norwich. The charms of intellect and goodness, so abun¬ 
dantly possessed by the family of that man, fascinated him. He 
was surprised to find even the youngest of eleven children occu¬ 
pied in self-education, and inspired with energy in every pur¬ 
suit, whether of amusement or knowledge. Henceforward life 
appeared to him under a new aspect, and his character under¬ 
went a complete change. “ They were eager for improvement,” 
he subsequently wrote: “ I caught the infection. I was resolved 
to please them; and in the college of Dublin, at a distance from 
all my friends and all control, their influence, and the desire to 
please them, kept me hard at my books, and sweetened the toil 
they gave.” So strong was this “ desire to please,” that while 
preparing for the University, he studied morning, noon, and 
night; abandoned all miscellaneous reading, and embraced only 
twice in five years the privilege of engaging in a shooting-match. 

In 1803, Buxton entered the Dublin University, obtaining 
the second place at the entrance examination, and the premium 
at the following one. In the Historical Society connected with 
the University he won several premiums, and was awarded 
the society’s silver medal. Finally, he received from Trinity 
College its highest honour, a medal of gold. In 1807, his fel¬ 
low students invited him to represent them in Parliament; but 
this invitation he declined, in consequence of his engagements 
with Miss Hannah Gurney, whom, in May of that year, he 
married. 

In 1808, he engaged in business in Trueman’s brewery, of 
which he subsequently became partner. During ten years he 
devoted himself almost exclusively to its affairs, until he was 
relieved gradually of the necessity of attending to it personally, 
and introduced into new scenes and associations. Having be¬ 
come acquainted with the distinguished Friend, William Allen, 
he was induced to take part in the movements favourable to the 
Bible Society and the poor weavers of England. A long course 
of silent but earnest meditation on the subjects of religion and 
philanthropy had prepared him for this new work. The Bible 
had long been his theological creed; his perusal of it was 
habitual and prayerful; and, since 1811, he appears to have 


THOMAS FOWELL BUXTON. 


661 


had powerful convictions of his condition as a sinner. When, 
in connection with these feelings, we associate his character by 
nature—his strong love of truth, Ins integrity and conscientious¬ 
ness, his dislike of pomp or empty forms, his practical devotion 
to whatever cause he took up—the importance of his agency in 
a work of moral reform may be easily divined. 

In November, 1816, Mr. Buxton made his first public speech. 
It was in behalf of the Spitalfields weavers, then in great dis¬ 
tress, and resulted in raising for them more than forty-three 
thousand pounds. In the following year he visited Paris, for the 
purpose of establishing in that city a branch of the Bible Society. 
About the same time appeared his work on prison discipline, 
containing painful exposures of the barbarous treatment of 
criminals in the British jails. It passed through six editions, 
was praised by Sir James Mackintosh in the House of Commons, 
and found its way through Europe as far as Turkey. Next 
year he was sent to Parliament for Weymouth. While there 
he made several speeches, and was unwearied in his opposition 
to capital punishment, except in cases of murderers, and the 
abolition of slavery. For his efforts in the latter course he was, 
in 1828, chosen one of the vice-presidents of the Anti-Slavery 
Society established in that year. On the 15th of May, of the 
same year, he moved in Parliament, “ That the House take into 
consideration the state of slavery in the British colonies.” An 
animated debate ensued; but we may remark, as fruit of this early 
effort, that circulars were addressed to the West Indian planters, 
requiring them to provide the means of religious instruction for 
their slaves; to stop Sunday markets and Sunday labour; to 
allow slaves to have property by law; to legalize their mar¬ 
riages ; to abolish the corporal punishment of females; to re¬ 
strain the power of arbitrary punishment, &c. These circulars 
produced frightful commotions among the planters; serious 
thoughts were entertained of opposing by open force the agents 
of the parent government; and, by way of satisfaction, hundreds 
of slaves who had rejoiced at the doings of the “ great king ” in 
their favour, were shot, lashed to death, or executed after mock 
trials. Government shamefully retreating from the position it 
had taken, Buxton suddenly found himself the most unpopular 
man in London, and the whole affair was necessarily suspended. 

On the 1st of June, 1824, the subject was again introduced 


662 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


to the House by Mr. Brougham, who, in a speech of four hours’ 
length, brought forward the case of the martyr missionary, 
Smith, and of the suffering negroes. This turned the tide of 
popular opinion, which from that day ran strongly against 
slavery. To a petition which Mr. Buxton presented in 1826, 
seventy-two thousand names had been signed by residents in 
London alone. In the following year he collected evidence on 
the slave trade, in connection with Mauritius. The horrible cases 
of suffering examined by him during this investigation threw 
him into such a state of feeling as brought on fever and apo¬ 
plexy, from which he narrowly escaped with his life. But his 
labours in this instance were crowned with success. 

Government still inclined to lenient measures. It trusted 
to the honour of the planters for accomplishing needful changes 
of character, and gradual emancipation of person. But in the 
British islands the slaVe population decreased in a ratio of one- 
eighth in twenty-three years ; each slave worked from fifteen to 
nineteen hours a day; and the rancour of the planters increased 
up to the hour of abolition. The negroes had passed the limit 
of human endurance; a general revolt was near at hand; already 
tumults were taking place in Jamaica; and the planters, as 
though inviting the vengeance of government, destroyed seven¬ 
teen chapels, insulted and abused pastor and congregation, and 
avowed their determination to extirpate Christianity from their 
midst. Then Parliament took up the matter in earnest; and, in 
August, 1833, the glorious bill was passed, abolishing slavery in 
the British West Indies. 

With like earnestness did this benevolent man labour for the 
abolition of the African slave trade; and in 1828 he had the 
satisfaction of seeing the Hottentots liberated along the shores 
of South Africa. In 1829, he voted for the “Emancipation” 
Bill—an action which evinces that, though firmly convinced of 
the errors of Popery, he was ever ready to vindicate the rights 
of Catholics as citizens and Christians. He likewise voted with 
the Whigs for the Appropriation clause of the Irish Tithe Bill. 
“How has it been,” he remarked on that occasion, “that truth 
itself—backed by a Protestant establishment, by a Protestant 
king, a Protestant army, a Protestant parliament—that truth 
itself, so far from advancing, has not kept her ground against 
error ? My solution of the question is, that we have resorted 


THOMAS FOWELL BUXTON. 


663 


to force where reason alone could prevail. We have forgotten 
that though the sword may do its work—mow down armies and 
subdue nations—it cannot carry conviction to the understanding 
of men; nay, the very use of force tends to create a barrier to 
the reception of that truth which it intends to promote. We 
have forgotten that there is something in the human breast, no 
base or sordid feeling, the same which makes a generous mind 
cleave with double affection to a distressed and injured friend, 
and which makes men cleave with ten-fold fondness—deaf to 
reason, deaf to remonstrance, reckless of interest, prodigal of 
life—to a persecuted religion. I charge the failure of Protes¬ 
tants in converting the Irish upon the head of Protestant as¬ 
cendancy.” 

In 1837, Mr. Buxton lost his election for Weymouth, and 
embraced the opportunity to retire to private life, although 
twenty-seven offers were made to him to stand for other districts. 
In 1839 he visited France and Italy, inspecting the prisons in 
his route. In 1840, Queen Victoria bestowed on him the rank 
of Baronet. His health was now much shattered, and during 
the three succeeding years steadily grew worse. 

His last days were spent in exercises of devotion. When 
near his departure, he replied to a remark that he had a firm 
hold on Christ, “Yes, indeed, I have, unto eternal life.” He 
quietly expired on the 19th of February, 1844. He was buried 
in the ruined chancel of the church at Overstrand, where a 
monument was subsequently erected to commemorate his virtues. 
It is a pleasing evidence of the manner in which his labours 
were regarded by the negroes, that four hundred and fifty pounds 
of the subscription money was contributed by them, chiefly in 
pence and half-pence. On the monument a full length statue 
is yet to be erected. 


664 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE, 



UTHOR of “The Ancient Mariner/' and the 
translator of “Wallenstein," was horn on 
the 20th of October, 1772, at Ottery St. 
Mary, in Devonshire; the eleventh and 
youngest child of the Rev. John Coleridge, 
Vicar of that Parish. His father having pro¬ 
cured a presentation to Christ’s Hospital for 
him, he was placed there in 1782, in the same 
year with his friend Charles Lamb, who was three 
years younger than himself. Here, under the 
care of the Rev. James Bowyer, head-master of the 
grammar-school, he was early distinguished for the 
scholarship, and it may be added, for those peculiari¬ 
ties of mind and personal habits that marked his after 
career. Mr. Bowyer, we are told in Mr. Coleridge’s 
interesting and singular “Biographia Literaria,” was not 
zealous and clear-sighted guide for him to the riches of 
the Greek and Roman poets, but a searching and sarcastic critic 
of the metrical school exercises, in which his pupil gave his first 
tokens of possessing original genius. Thus it happened that 
young Coleridge’s taste was cultivated and rendered fastidious 
before his powers were at all developed; and, apart from the 
peculiar physical organization which throughout after-life ope¬ 
rated on his mind as a burden and a hinderance in the work of 
production and accomplishment, this very circumstance of his 
education, at first sight seeming so advantageous, may have 
contributed to indispose him to attempt any continuous effort, 
or to complete it if attempted. 

Other studies, which even then exercised over him a master- 
influence, were not less unfavourable to his yielding wholly to 
poetical impulses. « At a very premature age,’’ says he, “even 
before my fifteenth year, I had bewildered myself in metaphy- 


SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 


665 


sics and in theological .controversy. History and particular 
facts lost all interest in my mind. * * * In my friendless 

wanderings on our leave days, (for I was an orphan, and had 
scarcely any connections in London,) highly was I delighted if 
any passenger, especially if dressed in black, would enter into 
conversation with me, for I soon found the means of directing 
it to my favourite subjects— 

Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate— 

Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute.” 

From the perplexities of these momentous topics, so dispro¬ 
portionate with his mental strength at that period, the boy 
metaphysician was for a time diverted, by his making friendship 
with the sonnets of the Rev. Mr. Bowles. So ardently did he 
adopt these, that his funds not warranting purchases, “he 
made,” he tells us, “within less than a year and a half, no less 
than forty transcriptions, as the best presents I could offer to 
those who had in any way won my regard.” The freshness of 
their imagery, the healthy simplicity of their language, not only 
enchanted their enthusiastic admirer,-but invited him to attempt 
something of his own, which should possess similar excellencies. 

It was not, however, till the year 1794, that he ventured into 
print. In the interim, his fortunes had undergone strange 
vicissitudes. He had remained at Christ’s Hospital till he was 
nineteen, when having, as grecian or captain of the school, won 
an exhibition to the university, he entered Jesus College, Cam¬ 
bridge, on the 7th of September, 1791. But the discipline of a 
college was no less uncongenial, whether to the man or to his 
mind, than they subsequently proved to the gentle-hearted 
Shelley. From his cradle to his grave, Mr. Coleridge was 
marked by singularity of habits, amounting to the most entire 
non-conformity with the ways and calculations of men. In the 
common relations of life he was undecided and inconsiderate,— 
loving better to sit still and discuss some knotty point, than to 
rise up and act. The same languor of spirit which prevented 
him from ever advancing his worldly fortunes, and which ere 
long took the form of bodily disease,—the same perverseness 
which made him, when travelling to solicit subscriptions for a 
periodical (The Watchman) which he was about to establish, 
choose for the subject of an harangue, in the house of one whose 
patronage in his undertaking he was seeking, the unprofitable - 
84 3 k2 


666 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


ness and unlawfulness of all periodicals, —rendered him desul¬ 
tory and capricious in his college studies, allowed him to fall 
into pecuniary difficulties, and finally contributed to his quitting 
college without having taken his degree. Like some others of 
his friends, too, he had disqualified himself for a university 
career, by having caught the Jacobinical spirit of the time, as 
“ Robespierre,” a hastily produced drama, which he wrote in 
conjunction with his friend Southey—as that tremendous phi¬ 
lippic, “Fire, Famine, and Slaughter,” sufficiently attest. The 
history of mind would contain few more curious chapters than 
that which should trace the changes in opinion of those young 
authors, who entered the world together so fiercely resolved to 
stand or fall under the banner of liberty and equality ! 

On leaving Cambridge, Mr. Coleridge was exposed to the 
severest privations, and after a few days of distress and 
perplexity in London, took the desperate step of enlisting 
himself as a private soldier, in the fifteenth regiment Elliot’s 
Light Dragoons, under the assumed name of “ Comberback,” 
with the view of retrieving his fortunes. But he was as unapt 
and unready in all bodily exercises as he was rich in recondite 
learning. Though orderly and obedient, he could not rub down 
his horse; and being detected by his commanding officer, Cap¬ 
tain Ogle, as the scrawler of a Latin quotation upon the wall of 
the stables at Reading, where the regiment was quartered, the 
circumstance led to his discharge. It may be added, on the 
authority and in the words of the Rev. W. L. Bowles, that “ by 
far the most correct, sublime, chaste, and beautiful of his poems, 
< Religious Musings,’ was written non inter sylvas Academi , but 
in the tap-room at Reading.” 

The date of Mr. Coleridge’s first publication, which took place 
shortly after this period, has been given. The work was favour¬ 
ably received by a few, and cried down only by such superficial 
and overweening critics as welcomed Mr. Wordsworth’s first 
poetical essays with a fatal “ This will never do !” In the win¬ 
ter of 1794-5, having joined the Pantisocratians, (to whom fuller 
allusion is made elsewhere,) we find him lecturing at Bristol on 
the French Revolution, but without much method or regularity, 
and it was eminently characteristic of the man , (who must always 
be considered separately from the poet and the metaphysician,) 
that he rushed into the scheme without any worldly substance, 


SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 


667 

and even considered himself as furthering its purposes bj his 
early marriage with Miss Ericker, which took place in the same 
year. 

The scheme of Pantisocracy was soon found to be but a broken 
reed to lean upon, and the poet having settled himself at Nether 
Stowey—where many of his most delicious verses were written, 
—w r as obliged to endeavour to make his literary attainments 
available for his maintenance. A periodical, devoted to the 
utterance of liberal opinions, was planned, “ by sundry philan¬ 
thropists and anti-polemists.” This was the “ Watchman,” 
whose ill-success might be augured from the anecdote mentioned 
awhile since; and having lingered through its short and sickly 
life, no one will wonder at finding it presently used as waste 
paper for the lighting of fires in its editor’s cottage. Mr. Cole¬ 
ridge also eked out his means, at this time, by contributing 
occasional poems to a morning paper. 

In the year 1797, his volume of poetry went to a second edi¬ 
tion, and, at Sheridan’s request, he wrote his beautiful tragedy 
of “ Remorse,” which, however, was not performed till the year 
1813, and then with but moderate success. About this time, 
Mr. Wordsworth was resident at Nether Stowey; with this gen¬ 
tleman Mr. Coleridge contracted a close and affectionate intimacy. 
Each of the two was anxious to do his part in what they con¬ 
ceived might prove the revival of true poetry, and between them 
the “ Lyrical Ballads” were planned. In the execution of this 
joint work, Mr. Coleridge was “ to direct his endeavours to per¬ 
sons and characters supernatural, or at least romantic, yet so 
as to transfer from our inward nature a human interest, and a 
resemblance of truth sufficient to procure for these shadows of 
imagination, that willing suspension of disbelief for the moment, 
which constitutes poetic faith.” In fulfilment of this intention, 
the “Ancient Mariner,” (that marvel among modern legends,) 
the “ Genevieve,”—in itself the most exquisite of love-tales, and 
yet but thrown off as the introduction to a story of mystery 
never completed;—and the first part of “ Christabel” were writ¬ 
ten. The second part of this fragment, whose fate it has been 
to be first more scorned, next more quoted, lastly more admired, 
than most contemporary poems, was not added till after its 
author’s return from Germany. It was while Mr. Coleridge was 
residing at Nether Stowey, that he occasionally officiated as a 


668 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


Unitarian minister, at Taunton; and he might probably have 
been promoted to the regular charge of a congregation at 
Shrewsbury, had not the liberality of his friends, the Mr. Wedg¬ 
woods, offered him the alternative of the means wherewith he 
might proceed to Germany and complete his studies according 
to his own plan. The latter he was sure to accept. Mr. Haz- 
litt has left a delightful record among his literary remains,—of 
Mr. Coleridge’s trial sermon at Shrewsbury, and of his fasci¬ 
nating powers of eloquence and conversation; this is followed 
by a no less interesting picture of the poet’s manner of life at 
Nether Stowey. Had it been possible these should have been 
quoted here, together with Mr. Coleridge’s own anecdote from 
the “ Biographia,” telling how he was dogged by a government 
spy for many weeks together, while he was wandering among the 
Quantock hills, and dreaming of one of the thousand works, of 
which 

“ His eyes made pictures, when they were shut—” 
but which his hand never executed—a contemplative and descrip¬ 
tive poem, to be called “ The Brook.” 

It was on the 16th of September, 1798, that Mr. Coleridge 
set sail for Hamburgh, from Yarmouth. The details of this 
voyage, of his interview with Klopstock, of his subsequent resi¬ 
dences at Ratzeburg and Gottingen, were journalized in his own 
delightful letters: it is enough for us to say, that he returned 
to his own country in 1801, imbued with the best spirit of Ger¬ 
man literature; his researches into its philosophy having wrought 
for him the somewhat unforeseen result of a change from the 
Unitarian to the Trinitarian belief. That he continued a stanch 
disciple of the latter faith for the remainder of his days, his 
prose works and his will afford ample evidence. 

On his return to England, Mr. Coleridge took up his residence 
at Keswick, in the neighbourhood of his friends Wordsworth 
and Southey; there he translated Schiller’s Wallenstein, which 
was published immediately; and though, for its wonderful spirit 
and fidelity,—the latter not a dry closeness of words, but a ren¬ 
dering of thoughts by thoughts,—it was, on its appearing, felt 
to be a remarkable work—unique in our language, and raising 
the translator to an equality with the original author—it was 
long and strangely neglected, a second edition not being called 
for till the year 1828. Now , could we call up “ the old man 


SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 


669 


eloquent,” as Sir Walter Scott threatened might he done of 
“ Christabel,” we should he tempted (could only one wish be 
granted) to demand of him a version of the untranslatable 
“ Faust,” secure that in his hands, that wonderful drama would 
be as admirably naturalized into our literature as the master- 
work of “ Schiller.” 

Shortly after his return from Germany, Mr. Coleridge joined 
himself as a literary and political contributor to the “ Morning 
Post,” stipulating, in the first instance, “ that the paper should 
be conducted on certain fixed principles, these being anti-minis¬ 
terial, and with greater earnestness and zeal, both anti-jacobin 
and anti-gallican.” He laments over the time and talent ex¬ 
pended in this compulsory toil, which would have been easily 
discharged, nor felt burdensome by any one more happily con¬ 
stituted, or self-trained for diligent effort. And, in afterwards 
speaking of literature as a profession, he would, like too many 
besides him, do reason and justice wrong by describing its 
drudgery in gloomier colours than are used with reference to 
the uninteresting labour necessary to every other profession. 
But his mind was always teeming and pregnant, rather than 
active; and it was enchained in a feeble body, to the wants of 
which, perhaps, self-indulgence had given too much mastery. 
Mr. Coleridge could move others by his inspired conversation, 
by a few words crowded into the margin of a book, or let drop 
in conversation; he could clear up a dark point in literature, 
or illustrate a principle in philosophy, or open an avenue for 
his disciples to advance along in the pursuit of truth; but work 
himself, save in a fragmentary manner, he seems to have been 
positively unable. We find him in 1804, at Malta, appointed 
as Secretary to Sir Alexander Ball; with a superior whom he 
loved, as may be seen by the elaborate and grave panegyric he 
has left in “ The Friend,”—-and a liberal salary. But he was 
incapable of performing the duties of office even under such 
favourable circumstances; and after a ramble through Italy and 
Rome, he returned to England, again to prove the precarious¬ 
ness of the life of those whose sole dependence is upon thoughts 
which they cannot, or will not, take the labour and patience to 
work out in a complete and available form. 

In writing Mr. Coleridge s life, this feature of his character 
should be fully displayed and dwelt upon: even in this brief 


670 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


sketch it claims a distinct mention, though with reverence and 
sympathy. On his return to England, we find him lecturing on 
poetry and the fine arts, at the Royal Institution, in the year 
1808; next sojourning at Grasmere, where he planned and pub¬ 
lished “ The Friend,” a periodical which was dropped at the 
twenty-eighth number. Nor is this wonderful: there was a 
want of variety in the topics embraced in this miscellany; 
and the metaphysical and philosophical subjects on which its 
contriver delighted principally to dwell, were grave and involved; 
nor by their manner of treatment likely to be rendered accept¬ 
able to a public large enough to support a periodical, had he 
been regular enough to have continued it. “ The tendency of 
his mind,” writes one who understood him well, “to speculations 
of the most remote and subtle character, led him into regions 
where to follow was no easy flight. To read his philosophical 
discourses is a mental exercise which few are now willing to un¬ 
dertake ; and it is surprising that many will describe him as 
vague, intricate, and rhapsodical. For those, however, who 
study his writings as they deserve and demand, they are highly 
suggestive, and full of no common instruction, as excursions of 
a mind which, in compass and elevation, had certainly no peer 
among his English contemporaries. Of the peculiar character 
of his philosophy, as applied to various ^ranches of knowledge, 
whether in ethics, criticism, history, or metaphysical science, it 
would be impossible to afford even the most imperfect sketch in 
this place. He may be said to have finally adopted an eclectic 
system of his own, strongly tinctured with the academic doc¬ 
trines, and enriched with ideas gathered from the eminent Ger¬ 
man teachers of philosophy, to which he added a certain devout 
mysticism resting upon revealed religion. In the uttering of 
his tenets, circumstance no less than choice directed him to the 
dogmatic method; which, indeed, to be fixed in the conviction 
of certain positive and supreme truths, he must in any case na¬ 
turally have followed. * * * His age was chiefly devoted 

to the verbal exposition of his scheme of a Christian philosophy, 
in which his mind had found a calm and satisfied refuge: his 
‘ Aids to Reflection’ can but be considered as prelusions to the 
longer discourse, the 4 Magnum Opus,’ in which he meant to un¬ 
fold his system in all its fulness.” 

The above passage, as containing in some wise a general 


SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 


671 


character of the prose works of this extraordinary man, has 
been permitted to break the fragile thread of our biographical 
notice. But there is little more to be told. After living for a 
short time at Grasmere, he came again to London, and finally 
set up his rest at Highgate, in the house of Mr. and Mrs. Gil¬ 
man. With these faithful friends he continued to sojourn during 
the remainder of his life. In 1816, (to complete the list of his 
works,) “ Christabel” was published; then followed his “Lay 
Sermons;” next, in 1817, his “Biographia Literaria,” the an- 
ecdotical part of which, in its want of method and connection, 
is as eminently typical of the man as its introduced digressions 
are of the philosopher. Besides these, we must mention a 
volume of poems, entitled “ Sibylline Leaves,” containing the 
“Genevieve,” the “ Hymn in the Valley of Chamouni,” (that 
noblest of modern sacred odes,) and “ Zapolya,” a drama, imi¬ 
tating in its form the peerless “Winter’s Tale” of Shakspeare, 
which, though full of beauty, is like the “Remorse,” at once 
too delicate in its language and imagery, and too devoid of one 
master-interest, to be successful before our vitiated stage audi¬ 
ences. # It might be the consciousness of his failure, as much as 
the conviction of the viciousness of the nascent school of poetry 
and fiction, that embittered his critique upon Maturin’s “ Ber¬ 
tram,” appended to the “Biographia,”—a piece of savage labour 
thrown away. “Zapolya” was never represented. The list of 
Mr. Coleridge’s works, published in his lifetime, will we believe 
be completed by a small yolume published in 1830, « On the 
Constitution of the Church and State,” bearing on the Catholic 
question. 

There is no space here for an analysis of Mr. Coleridge’s 
poems; among which, to increase the impossibility of such an 
essay, there will be found a singular variety and difference of 
manner. In some he is devout and enthusiastic, soaring to the 
most august themes, with a steadiness of wing and loftiness of 
harmony peculiar to himself: in others, tender and quaint, dal¬ 
lying among dainty images and conceits; and in his latter 
verses, wrapping up thoughts in a garb, enigmatical and fan¬ 
tastic, after the manner of some of the elder writers. In his 
ballads again he has caught the true spirit of the superna¬ 
tural beyond all his compeers; his mind broods over the mys¬ 
terious tale he is about to unfold, and his words fall from him 


G72 


LIVES OF EMINENT CHRISTIANS. 


unconsciously, each verse as it were intimating a portent. In 
all he shows himself to be perhaps the greatest modern master 
of versification: his poetry has a music deeper than that of 
chime and cadence, the thoughts and images, not merely the 
words and the measures, succeed each other in a rare harmony, 
besides being clothed in language of a select and borrowed 
richness. 

For the last many years of his life, Mr. Coleridge lived plea¬ 
santly among his friends, at one time deriving a small pension 
from the royal bounty,—dreaming of a thousand mighty works 
to be achieved, committing the seeds of these, in the shape of 
notes and criticisms, to the fly-leaves and margins of such books 
as fell in his way; and haranguing with a magical eloquence to 
those who drew round him to “ love and learn.” He established, 
it has been happily said, in excuse for the literary unproductive¬ 
ness of his later years, a Normal school of philosophy for those 
who should in turn disseminate his well-beloved doctrines to a 
wider circle of pupils. Few, even among the uninitiated, left 
his presence without being a thought the richer; few books 
passed from under his hands without being graced by some 
golden sentence of illustration or criticism. The latter E?re daily 
coming to light; such as have been given to the world are pre¬ 
cious evidences of the largeness of his mind, of the extent of his 
accomplishments, and the keenness of his perception. As a 
master and teacher whose mind, dwelling apart from busy life, 
was devoted to the study and oral diffusion of what was lofty, 
and noble, and worthy, we ought to love his memory—though 
we may not forget that there is warning as well as authority 
associated with his name ! 


THE END. 


tRBMr’26 





















